


Just One Moment

by sorion



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Initial Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:10:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorion/pseuds/sorion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You take death very seriously,” said a voice that almost visibly carried the smirk to go with it. “So, tell me. Why is that?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> post-series, no Glühen  
>  **Written in 2005 - 2006** (I'm afraid the English isn't up to my current standards, but this _has_ been written quite a while ago :P _[Seasonal Changes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/504833)_ is better in that respect if you would like to give it a go.)

Omi stood over the body lying on the ground in front of him, and he was breathing heavily.  
Another one… Another death to mark his soul. Another night he couldn’t take back, no matter how much he wanted to.  
He watched as the colour slowly left the dead man’s face.

Oh, dear God. Forgive me.

But what was even worse than killing, was the fact that he would be doing it again and again. He would be researching, planning, briefing the others… and then leaving to kill.  
Because he believed that it was the only way. Because he knew, the men he hunted, deserved no better.

But that didn’t change the fact that he was the one to take their lives. And who was he to decide…? Just a killer. Nothing more.

“You take death very seriously,” said a voice that almost visibly carried the smirk to go with it.

Omi jerked around, staring into the blazing green eyes of his enemy, and sure enough, there was the smirk, steady in place. “Schuldig,” he whispered hoarsely.

“So, tell me. Why is that?” he asked, ignoring Omi’s reaction to his presence.

“Why is what?” Omi helplessly tried to grasp his darts but couldn’t move his hands to do so. And seeing the fractional widening of Schuldig’s smirk, Omi knew exactly why that was…

“Why do you take death seriously?”

Omi stared at him, as if the man must have lost his mind. For that moment, he even forgot how dangerous his opponent was. “Because…”

“Yes…?” drawled Schuldig.

Omi faltered. Why? Because it couldn’t be taken back. Why would Schuldig even ask? “Because… it’s irreversible.”

Schuldig laughed at him. “But, my dear Kätzchen, everything is irreversible. Every step you take, cannot be taken back. Every breath, every blink of your eyes, every time you go to sleep or wake up… every moment is irreversible. Everything.”

Omi kept staring.

“Why take death more seriously than everything else?” 

Schuldig stepped closer.

Omi tried to step back but couldn’t.

Schuldig’s smirk turned more sinister. Then he kissed Omi on the lips. Just a peck, but it burned Omi to his soul as another moment that could not be taken back.

And then the man was gone, only his laughter still resonating through Omi’s head.

After a long, torturous, moment Omi left, the body forgotten, another irreversible moment taking its place.


	2. Part 1

Schuldig entered the Schwarz apartment, still grinning from ear to ear, his keys jingling merrily in his hand, while he twirled them.

How… extraordinarily satisfying it had been, to see the kitten so confused, to crack his foundations just enough for the boy to actually question them.

Chuckling slightly, he passed the living room to get to the back of the apartment.

A voice stopped him. “Schuldig.”

Schuldig saw the shadowy silhouette of Crawford sitting in a chair.

Crawford turned on the reading lamp next to him, which gave his features a harsh and pointy edge. “Sit,” he ordered.

“What’s your problem?” Schuldig was in no mood to dampen the high spirits he had been in, until that moment.

“Sit. Down.”

Schuldig snorted a laugh and plopped onto the couch.

“Where have you been, tonight?”

Schuldig shrugged nonchalantly. “Just playing. Why?”

“Playing with Weiß?” he demanded.

“And if I was?” He was getting annoyed. It wasn’t like this was the first time. And it wasn’t like Crawford didn’t know that he was perfectly safe against any of their rivals. “Kid couldn’t do anything to me, anyway.”

“Is that so?”

Schuldig laughed. “If I didn’t know that you’re always serious, I’d ask you if you were serious.” He leaned forward. “I have a gun. He has darts. I’m a telepath. He’s not. He has a conscience… I do not.” He smirked.

Crawford sighed. “In times like these I am reminded of just how human you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he spat.

Crawford’s eyes bore into him. “Humans make mistakes, Schuldig.”

Schuldig abruptly got up and turned to leave. “I don’t have to listen to this.”

“You’re about to walk a path I am not sure I want Schwarz to follow.”

Schuldig turned throwing Crawford a hard look. “Are you saying I’m fired, because of a little playing around?”

Crawford sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Not yet.”

“Then shut the hell up!” He left the living room and made sure to slam the door.

On the way to his room he cursed himself for not having left for the night and some amusement. His self-satisfied and therefore _good_ mood was down the drain, _bye-bye_.

He kicked open his bedroom door, when a quiet and reluctant voice stopped him.

“Schuldig?”

Schuldig sighed with his hand on the door frame. “Not now, Kid.”

“Is he mad at you?” Nagi asked.

The boy’s soft but insistent tone made Schuldig finally turn around. He knew that tone, Nagi rarely used it. “The Almighty alone knows what the flying fuck the problem is, this time, but, yes, he’s mad at me.”

“You… I heard you say something about being fired…”

Ah, thought Schuldig, that’s where the problem lies. “I’m not fired, Kid. He’s just being a stick in the muck.”

Nagi got angry. “Then why would you say it? I’m not stupid, you know!”

Schuldig leaned against the door frame lazily and smiled a crooked smile at the young man. “You worry too much. I’m not going anywhere.” Nagi’s angry blue eyes told him in no uncertain terms that he was not going to back off, until he got a response from the other man.

Schuldig sighed, again. “Look… I was just playing with little Omittchi, and our fearless leader believes that this somehow might influence the Schwarz team dynamics. Though how he thinks that any one of that band of incompetents could even keep me from pissing, is beyond me.” He stepped away from the door and crossed his arms. “There. Happy?”

Nagi bit his lips. “I’m not sure. You know he always lets you play your games. Why would he give you a lecture about it, this time?”

Schuldig raked a hand through his hair. “How the hell would I know? He didn’t like the colour of my socks, he didn’t like the weather-forecast, he’s jealous of Omi…” He snorted. “I don’t know. He’ll calm down, again. Don’t you worry your pretty little head over me,” he smirked.

Nagi attempted a slight smile. “You’re all I have. Schwarz is all I have. I…”

Schuldig laughed and blew him a kiss. “I know. Love you, too.”

This made the Telekinetic laugh a little. “Fuck off.”

Schuldig tutted. “Such language! Off to bed. Shoo!”

“Yes, mom,” he giggled and disappeared into his room.

Schuldig chuckled and closed the door behind him. What do you know…? He felt better, now.

{Hey, Kid.}

He received a mental groan. {What?}

{I _do_ love you, you know.}

He had to wait for a response for a few seconds. {I know.} A burst of warm affection followed the remark and Schuldig grinned.

“You’re a good kid”, he murmured, unheard.

He plopped onto the bed and his grin widened when he got a glimpse of Omi’s thoughts, while the boy wandered aimlessly around the city.

*

It took Omi hours to get home, again.

So he shouldn’t have been surprised that he nearly got run over by a worried Ken who practically jumped him the moment he entered the door.

“Omi!” Ken crushed the young man against himself. “Where the hell have you been? We’ve been worried sick!”

And, sure enough, Omi could see the relieved faces of his other two team mates over Ken’s shoulder. He blinked. Everything was still so hazy…

He was late? But he’d just been taking a stroll; it couldn’t have been that long.

A quick look to the clock on the wall showed him that the short stroll had taken more than three hours. “I’m sorry,” he answered automatically.

Aya stepped forward while Youji watched him with a calculating gaze.

“Where have you been?” asked Aya.

Omi blinked. “I was just taking a walk.”

“After a mission?” cried Ken. “Jesus! We thought you were injured or killed!” He grabbed Omi by his shoulders and shook him.

“Whoa! Ken! Slow down.” Youji took hold of one of Ken’s hands and gently pried him off Omi. He turned to their youngest team member. “Why didn’t you come home or at least call?”

Omi still stared at Ken and saw actual tears glistening in the man’s eyes. “I… I didn’t mean to worry you.  
I just lost track of time. I needed to think. I…”

“Did something happen?” Youji insisted.

Omi’s eyes widened. Did something happen? Of course something happened! But how was he supposed to tell his friends and team mates that he’d had a run-in with Schuldig and that all the man had done was to kiss him? They’d think he’d gone around the bent!

Yeah, sure, Schuldig had been playing some mind tricks, too. But he wasn’t injured, he didn’t get killed… Schuldig had just let him go.

“No. Nothing happened. I was just feeling a bit off.” He avoided the stares of his friends. He couldn’t bear to look at them. “I think I’ll just go to bed.” He turned to leave. “Sorry.”

The door closed behind him.

Youji, Aya and Ken were left to look dumbly after him.

Ken hugged himself. Omi stalling after a mission? Not even calling? “That’s not like him. At all.”

Aya nodded and Youji sighed. “I agree. It’s not.”

Aya’s eyes wandered to the stairs, where Omi had disappeared. “We’ll have to keep an eye on him, in case of an… _outside interference_.”

Ken shot around. “What do you mean by that?”

Youji sighed. “Schwarz, Ken.”

Ken shook his head, slowly. “That’s stupid! He would have told us, if it were something like that!”

The men shared uncomfortable glances. Their rival group was a bit of a moot point. Their recent encounters had been… different, to say the least. Schwarz seemed to have lost any interest in pursuing, confronting or killing them. 

None of them really knew why that was.

After the fall of SZ, the organisation had come crumbling down, leaving the four assassins to their own devices. And while the failed ceremony was a chance lost for immortality, Weiß was not sure, if their counterparts saw their newly found freedom as too bad a thing.

That left Weiß and Kritiker in a position, where their views on Schwarz divided. Though, no one dared to make an open statement, except _‘keep clear of them, just in case’_.

Youji rubbed his eyes. “We’ll keep an eye on him,” he repeated.


	3. Part 2

Omi was lying in his bed, desperately trying to control his constant trembling.

A dry sob escaped his throat, when he was unable to ban the piercing green eyes from his mind. He pulled the cover over his head and his knees to his chest.

“Death _is_ important, because _life_ is!” he whimpered into his pillow. “It has to be…” his voice was now no more than a whisper.

If life wasn’t important, then it was not worth protecting, and he was killing for no purpose at all. Tainting his soul, torturing his mind… For nothing.

But if death gained its relevance through the importance of life… then it was indeed as Schuldig had told him, wasn’t it? Everything was to be taken seriously, everything was irreversible, and everything deserved the same weight as death.

Omi rubbed his red and swollen eyes clumsily with one fist. But… but if he ever forgot what it meant to take someone’s life, then he would be not better than Schwarz. He would step even further from the light than he’d already had.

He bit his lip. But life was important… It was the reason he killed.

But death had to mean more. Omi _needed_ for death to mean more.

Mocking green eyes glinted at him from behind his closed eye lids.

Omi gasped, threw back the cover and sat up, breathing heavily. Was that why he kept having these thoughts? Was the German still in his mind, controlling and confusing him?

He squeezed his eyes shut, held his head in both hands, rocked back and forth and whimpered. 

“Get out!” he hissed with as much force as he could muster, which, admittedly, wasn’t much. He tried again: “Get out of my head!”

But there was only silence. No evidence whatsoever of anyone controlling him. No nasal voice in his head was laughing at him. And the doubts did not leave.

No… even if his experience told him that Schuldig could control minds, Omi knew, deep down, that these were his own doubts.

And all it had taken the enemy to place them, was one question and a simple kiss.

*

Ken knocked on Omi’s door, while holding a tray with breakfast in his other hand. When he didn’t get a response, he knocked, again and then tried to open.

It was unlocked.

Ken frowned at that. Omi never forgot to lock.

He spotted blond hair peeking out from under the cover, the body beneath obviously in foetal position.

He stepped up to the TV table to put down his tray then he sat on the edge of the bed next to Omi and lightly touched the young man’s shoulder.

“Omittchi?” he tried, calmly, as to not startle him. It didn’t really take a genius to see that something was bothering his friend, even though Omi had insisted, the night before that everything was alright.

Omi whimpered, his hand darted to his lips and his eyes flew wide open. His panic stricken eyes were still mostly unseeing, and Omi fought hard to escape the dream world he had been entangled in. He shot up to a sitting position and gasped for breath.

“Whoa, there! Easy…” Ken tried to reach for the boy, again.

Omi’s head swivelled around, he was still breathing heavily. “Ken?”

Ken smiled, softly and brushed a sweaty strand from Omi’s forehead. “It’s been a while since a job affected you this much,” he observed.

Omi squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds, before he opened them, again. Job? “W-what?”

“The hit, yesterday,” Ken prompted. “Do you want to tell me what happened with the target?”

Omi raked his right hand through his hair. Target? Nothing was the matter with the bloody target! He was dead, wasn’t he? As he should be… “Nothing happened. I’m just feeling a bit off.”

Ken put his arms on his thighs and leaned forward. He pursed his lips in thought. “It’s not like you to just _‘feel a bit off’_ , for no reason.”

Omi avoided Ken’s calm stare and forced down the sick feeling in his stomach.

“And… the way you acted, yesterday, after the mission…” He sighed. “Omi, what’s wrong?”

Omi swallowed, nervously. “It has nothing to do with the mission, Ken. I’m okay. Don’t worry.” He managed a slight smile that looked sincere enough for Ken to believe it, Omi hoped.

Ken didn’t really seem convinced, but he obviously decided to let the matter rest and smiled back. “Whatever you say, kiddo. Just… if you want to talk…”

The smile came a bit easier after that offer. Ken was a good friend to have. “I’ll know where to come to,” he assured. 

“Now,” he said and got up. “I got you breakfast,” he pointed to the tray next to the TV set. “See you later.” He waved goodbye and left Omi to his confusing thoughts.

*

“Bombay, here. I’ll be off the radio for now,” the voice said and then there was a slight clicking sound when Omi turned off his micro.

Youji and Aya were outside for backup, Ken was dealing with the back entrance security for a clear exit, and Omi was inside to gather information.

None of Weiß had protested when they were told at the briefing that it would be Omi who was going to complete the mission. After all, _he_ was their hacker. But that didn’t mean that any of the other three liked the idea of having Omi in there.

Aya and Youji shared a quick glance after Omi’s message.

Aya nodded slightly and Youji took off. They were not going to let the same thing happen, again. Youji would keep an eye on their youngest team mate, this time.

 

The lanky assassin scurried along the shadowy corridors. He knew exactly where Omi was supposed to be and headed in that direction. He was still not sure if he should let the other man know he was there or not.

Usually, there would be no question about that. Omi was a level-headed professional. Had either of them spotted a risk under normal circumstances, they would have told Omi. But something was different, this time. Something was wrong with the young man, and they could all see it.

He passed the slightly open door, where Omi was supposed to be working inside. He was just about to reach for the handle, when a thought crossed his mind. _‘No, he’s not here. He probably looked for another terminal.’_

Youji turned around and headed towards the second computer room, of which he knew was a few floors above him.

He never noticed two emeralds glittering in the darkness and a smirk widening. _‘That’s it, Kudou. He’s not in here… Now scat, kitty-cat.’_ And with that he entered the room where Omi was about to download the data from a computer.

Schuldig decided to be nice and waited, until Omi was done with his hacking and had to wait for everything to download.

As soon as the young man leaned back in his seat, he approached, silently. He reached out with his talent to leech his target to his seat; he did it so softly that Omi still did not notice his presence.

Oh, how Schuldig enjoyed this! His victims would not know what hit them, not until the very end. He leaned closer whispered into Omi’s ear: “And how are you this fine evening, Kätzchen?”

Omi tensed, tried to jump up and nearly choked in his panic, when he realized that he couldn’t.

Omi heard a throaty chuckle and felt its hot breath. He tried to turn his head, even though he knew very well who his captor was. Trembling heavily, he asked: “What do you want?” He said it with a certainty he did not feel. Omi felt the other man shrug. 

“Amusement.” Schuldig stroked his hands along Omi’s arms and inched closer… _just so_ … that Omi could feel the lips move with the words they uttered: “But don’t you worry, my little Bombay. There’s nothing you’ll have to do…” Schuldig could feel the other’s confusion, even without reading his mind. “I always take what I want,” he added nastily.

Schuldig almost laughed out loud at the other’s shock at that. But he didn’t feel like shocking the boy into a cardiac arrest, so he kept stroking the slender arms and shifted his attention to the screen in front of them, after a slight kiss to Omi’s cheek.

Omi jumped when he could feel warm lips brush a kiss right next to his ear. He whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Ah…” Schuldig said, looking at the screen. “Names, locations, dates… This data is going to cost lives, am I right?”

Omi’s eyes focussed, immediately. “They’re criminals! They deserve no better!” he spat.

Schuldig was very satisfied to have gotten the boy’s attention, so easily, now. “Revenge is sweet, isn’t it, kitten?”

“Justice, not revenge!”

Schuldig chuckled and then deliberately slowly ran his tongue along Omi’s jaw to his lips, where he brushed another kiss. “You keep telling yourself that, kitty-cat.”

Omi was now in a state between panic and rage. A very delicious combination, in Schuldig’s humble opinion.

The German turned around the chair to stand in front of Omi and smirked. “I did say I was going to get my amusement.” He leaned forward and kissed the boy, again.

Omi pursed his lips, even if he couldn’t turn his head.

Schuldig just laughed at him. “I could make you participate, you know… Do you want me to?”

Omi didn’t answer that aloud, but it resonated through his head. _‘Why the hell would I want you to?!’_

Schuldig smirked. “Because that would give you an excuse.” He waited. “No?” he pouted, mockingly. “Ah, well, I’ll just have to find another way to… _convince_ you, sweet Omi.”

With that, he leaned forward and lightly bit Omi’s neck. “Hmm, yes,” he hummed approvingly, “definitely sweet.”

He ran his tongue along the neck, stopped here and there to bite the soft skin and ran his hands up and down Omi’s torso.

Omi whimpered and breathed unnaturally fast.

“Shh,” soothed Schuldig and kissed Omi’s lips, once more. “Easy, there, kitty, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Omi demanded, almost gagging from the uproar his stomach was in.

Schuldig smirked. “Because I plan to keep playing with you.” He brushed Omi’s cheek with his forefinger. “And you’re such a sweet thing. I don’t want to break you… just yet.”

“But you’re still going to… going to… r-rape me.”

Schuldig stretched out his talent to calm the boy down. This stammering was starting to get on his nerves. It was not like he’d done anything, yet!  
“Call it whatever you want, Kätzchen. It’s entirely up to you.”

He leaned in to kiss Omi, once more, but when the boy still refused to return it, he switched his attention once more to the neck and the inviting collarbone. 

His hands were rubbing up and down Omi’s thighs. Sweet, _so_ sweet. He relished the feel of firm flesh under his hands, the sweet taste of soft skin on his lips.

Oh, he had chosen his plaything, well, this time. So young and innocent.

He listened as the boy’s breathing grew harder, again. But this time not out of fear, alone. He smirked, self-satisfied and kissed the boy’s lips, again. Omi still didn’t return it, but his lips were slack and didn’t fight, either.

Schuldig ran his tongue across the sweet lips, while kissing him. He decided not to delve into the boy’s warm mouth, just yet. There would be time… And it would be well worth the wait, Schuldig was sure of that.

His hands wandered higher, his thumbs gently stroking Omi’s growing heat.

That jerked Omi awake. “No! No, please don’t…”

“Don’t what, sweet Omi?” he asked, impishly, and kept stroking, while kissing Omi’s face.

“D-don’t touch me. J-just… just get on with it.”

“Now, where would be the fun in that?” He moved one of his hands very deliberately to Omi’s crotch and pressed.

Omi squealed and gasped.

“I want to hear you moan, I want to hear you _beg_. I want to taste you and _feel_ your excitement.” He licked across Omi’s lips, once more, before kissing him deeply. He bit the soft lips, when he broke the kiss. “I am a telepath, sweetie. Feelings are half the fun.”

The nimble fingers in Omi’s lap began to unfasten the pants.

Omi flushed, breathed heavily and trembled all over. But he couldn’t feel the sickness, anymore, or the panic. He tried to tell the other man no, again, but his mouth wouldn’t move to let out the words.

One look at the green eyes below him told him right away, why he couldn’t protest.

Schuldig smirked. “Admit it. You don’t want to protest all that badly, anymore, do you?”

Omi couldn’t deny, even though he tried with every fibre of his mind to fight the restraints, Schuldig had put on him.

Schuldig chuckled; and then, with one last, very deliberate, leer, he lowered his head to Omi’s lap.

At the very first touch of the warm tongue on Omi’s sensitive flesh, a strangled moan forced itself out of his throat. 

He gasped for breath, as the tongue swirled around him, lips engulfed him… Schuldig _drank_ from him.

{That’s it, sweetheart, let go…}

The voice was tempting, oh so tempting… Omi felt drugged, completely detached from everything and anything besides the ensnaring words in his head and the engulfing mouth on his cock.

Erratic hands wandered over his torso, clawed at his clothing, reached underneath it, burned his skin…

Omi threw back his head, gasped and moaned, finally finding the control to move his hands to the flaming red hair. This was… it was… so…

{Yes, sweetness, _oh_ , yes. Feel me, feel _yourself_!} the voice allured.

Schuldig let Omi’s excitement wash over him. It was not a new experience for him that a lover’s passion would fuel his own, but this little one was something else, entirely. It had been a long time since he’d been able to come in his pants just from pleasuring someone else… But he was on the best way of doing just that.

Omi thrashed beneath him and Schuldig severed his mental hold on the boy. There was no way he would leave, now.

Omi’s fingers threaded through Schuldig’s soft hair, and he widened his legs further to grant the man better access. His hips moved rhythmically without any conscious thought.

{Come on, sweet baby. Let me taste you.}

Omi sobbed, uncontrollably and bucked his hips in his completion.

Schuldig drank the last drop of Omi’s lost innocence, sighing happily at his own orgasm and licked Omi’s softening member clean, before buttoning up the pants.

Then he kissed Omi, again… And there was no restraint, this time. Omi practically stumbled forward out of his chair, clung to Schuldig and kissed him back, desperately. 

The boy was still too far off, to really remember where he was, whom he was with and what he had done…

When the memory returned, tears started to stream down his face. He still clung to the other man, trying to hold the one moment of perfection for as long as he could, but finally having to let it pass.

He collapsed and sobbed, wondering why his enemy was still holding him. He felt lips kiss his head.

“Easy, sweetness.” He reached for the computer, removed the data and handed it to a startled Omi. “There. Kudou will be here, soon. I sent him on a wild goose hunt, earlier,” he grinned.

That shocked Omi out of his crying. His thoughts a giant tumble.

Schuldig chuckled. “Don’t think so much, sweetheart.” He kissed the boy, softly, his tongue only slipping inside for a brief moment. “Take the moments as they are. You can’t change them, but you can change how you perceive them.”

Schuldig stood and helped Omi to his feet.

“I’ll see you soon, Kätzchen,” he promised, and a wide smirk later, the man was gone, and Omi was alone.

 

Omi still stood there, when Youji returned, looking for him.

The young man couldn’t feel dread at the telepath’s departing promise… but neither did he feel anything else about the future. The tingly sensation was still in his stomach, the feeling of passion and detachment still present… 

But the only thoughts he could muster were revolving about the fact that it was too dark for his team mates to see his kiss-swollen lips and the marks that would no doubt be visible on his neck.

_‘You keep taking moments from me… what do you want with them?’_


	4. Part 3

Schuldig plopped down on the couch next to Nagi who was reading a book.

The teenager looked at him, suspiciously, when he saw the frighteningly self-satisfied smirk. “What? Where have you been?”

“Just fucking around.”

Nagi groaned and let his head fall back on the headrest. “Please, tell me you didn’t fuck Bombay?” he pleaded.

Schuldig stretched both his arms along the headrest and messed up Nagi’s hair with one hand. “Naw. I wouldn’t want to traumatize the poor, lost, little boy, too much… already.” He tilted his head. “I just blew him.”

Nagi scrunched up his face. “Eww! Gross!”

Schuldig chuckled and smacked his lips. “Not really. He’s… a sweet little thing.”

“ACK!” Nagi shot to his feet and hit Schuldig’s head with his book – which was quite heavy – before leaving for his room in a hurry.

Schuldig rubbed his sore head, laughing for a while. Then he stretched his senses, once more, to the mind of another messed up teenager.

He found Omi, easily enough. The young man was staring at his ceiling, his mind as blank as it could be, under the circumstances…

_Drip... Omi counted the drips coming from the sink. Drip... One moment. One moment passing right after the other. Drip... But it didn’t feel like they were his moments, anymore. Oh, no, Schuldig had seen to that, hadn’t he? Drip..._

Schuldig laughed, lightly, leaning his head back. He let the calming effect of the dripping water wash over himself.

“Oh, sweet thing,” he murmured, “you think too much.”

He slipped into Omi’s memories, looking for the still very present recollection of the disconnected feeling of afterglow and gave it a slight _push_ …

“There… Much better, isn’t it?” He smirked, as Omi slowly forgot what had been bothering him, revelling in his floating state of mind.

“And, now… You will go to sleep…” Schuldig imagined himself with the voice of some hypnosis charlatan _‘you feel tired… your eyes get heavy…’_ and chuckled. Wasn’t that an amusing picture.

He felt Omi’s consciousness slip away and the boy fall asleep with a sated, calm air about him.

Schuldig’s smirk widened. Omi would be eating from his palm in no time. Before long, the young assassin would come to him without any urging at all, because Schuldig was the one who could make the thoughts stop. And he would make him believe that no one else could… as easy… as… that…

“You’re mine, kitty-cat.”

*

Something changed in Omi these following two weeks, and everyone noticed it.

But none of the other members of Weiß would have said that the change was a bad one, Omi was just different.

He was quieter and less cheerful, but the few smiles seemed more genuine, savouring.

There didn’t seem to be any more incidents during or after missions, either. And there had been quite a few. Three this week alone.

 

Right now, they were sitting in their living room, after a hit practically by the book.

The last three days had gone completely haywire. They’d had no regular sleeping schedule, whatsoever and were now widely awake, after having slept most of the afternoon.

Omi and Aya were reading a book, Youji and Ken were watching TV, more or less attentive.

Actually, most of them were less attentive. While Omi tried to keep his eyes and mind on the book, the other three didn’t even bother to try. They had the corners of their eyes firmly on Omi.

Omi felt their worry, as he felt their eyes on him. Not that he blamed them… He – other than his team mates – knew what was wrong with him. And _had_ they known, their worries would have been multiplied. 

But Omi was well aware that nothing would have changed by telling them, so he kept quiet. Kept his two secret encounters to himself. He kept to himself that the memory of Schuldig… of Schuldig kneeling… in front of him… was the only thing to keep him from falling apart, sometimes.

The German’s words were still in his head. The words about taking every moment in life seriously…

Omi might not have liked Schuldig, his way of taking what he wanted or even the significance of his words… But he couldn’t deny that he didn’t love the moments in life as much as he should have, considering that he was one to preserve it.

His young mind had to come to terms with the fact that something that was not worth taking seriously beyond anything else, was certainly not worth killing for. And life was worth taking seriously, was worth killing for.

… This made killing easier for him… And _that_ terrified him.

But, terror aside, it made him more aware of the things around him, the things to enjoy. Friendship, sunshine, love, fun, laughter. He soaked it up like one of his flowers the water.

Life. Death. To keep himself from becoming the enemy, becoming like Schwarz, he had believed that he had to take death more seriously than everything else.

And now… now he was not so sure. And he was not sure at all, if that change was a bad one.

He closed his book and stood up. He gave his team mates a tired smile. 

“I’ll head to bed. I guess I’m still tired enough.” Which was true. He hadn’t slept all that much, recently. Existential questions could do that to an assassin.

His friends – his family – let him go without question, for which he was very grateful.

Omi fell into bed, well aware that he wouldn’t get any more than a few hours of sleep, until he’d once again be wide awake, his mind full of jumbling thoughts.

 

When he finally woke, it was still dark out, as he had expected. But he felt oddly well rested. His sleep had been deep and dream-free and he breathed deeply, revelling in this peaceful moment.

Pale moon light drew the contours of his window into the room. It felt almost… serene. Like a scene from a story, a fairy tale with snow and ice and quiet… Calm. He felt like he was drifting.

He sighed, content. The last time he had felt this kind of calming detachedness was… was…

His eyes snapped wide open; he shot to a sitting position and looked around the room.

And, sure enough, he could see a shadowy silhouette sitting in his chair next to the TV. “Schuldig,” he whispered.

“Good evening, kitten,” came the answer, the purring sound resembling the animal he so liked to call the four Weiß assassins. “Did you miss me?”

Omi shifted back to the head board of his bed, clinging tightly to his cover.

“No?” Schuldig chuckled. “Are you sure?”

Omi just nodded frantically.

“Are you sure you didn’t miss my kisses, my touches, maybe?” Schuldig sifted through Omi’s memories, looking for his body’s recollections. He chuckled, deeply. Oh, Omi _had_ missed him. Touches were something anyone who had to live with guilt would strive for. And his sweet kitten did live with guilt. A lot of it.

Instinctively, Omi shook his head.

Schuldig grinned. That was as good as any Freudian slip… “You’re not sure, after all, eh? Thought so…”

“No,” Omi croaked. “That’s not… not what I meant.”

Schuldig stood and stepped closer to the bed and its occupant.

Omi scrambled into the corner between head board and wall, watching Schuldig pass the moonlight shining through the window.

The man looked different, or was dressed differently, at least. He wore a casual jeans and t-shirt… and no bandana.

For some reason that seemingly disarming attire scared Omi more than the outfit the killer usually wore. He gripped the cover, tightly, his knuckles white and his arms trembling.

“Aww,” Schuldig cooed mockingly. “Don’t be afraid. I didn't hurt you, last time, did I?”

“And that is supposed to tell me that you wont, this time, either?”

Schuldig snickered and crawled onto the bed. He made Omi recall the calm and serene feeling, watched the boy’s blue eyes grow distant and smiled almost softly. “That’s the spirit, sweetheart. Don’t worry so; _feel_.”

And with that, warm lips closed over Omi’s, once again.

Omi whimpered; every part of his being clung to the feeling that let him forget, but his mind still refused to just give in.

His mind lost.

Schuldig manoeuvred both of them down to lie on the bed, while he kept kissing Omi expertly. He moved from holding Omi’s wrists to entwining their fingers. He revelled in the feeling of the other’s body arching into his, in the needy thoughts, the boy projected…

But before Omi could get completely lost in the feeling, he broke the kiss. He was still close enough so that while he talked, Omi was unsure whether he felt the other’s breath or his touch.

“Omittchi,” he whispered, inveigling. “Kiss me, sweet Omi.”

Omi’s closed eyes opened only a slit wide, staring into enticing green. He had never seen Schuldig’s eyes this close and the colour was almost hypnotic. Dark blue trim with more and more golden speckles towards the middle that caused the green sheen.

Schuldig’s words still sounded in his head, but he was not at all sure if that was the telepath’s doing. The man probably could have read from a phone book, right now, and it would still have caught Omi in the fiery spider’s web.

And caught he was. Caught in the detachment, caught in the touches, caught in the warmth, caught in the strength…

Omi lifted his head the one inch necessary to cover the promising lips above him.

Schuldig tried very hard not to cheer out loud. All too easy…

Needy people were so easy to control. And Omi was oh so needy.

The young man’s arms clung to Schuldig’s shoulders and his still clothed legs spread to allow more friction.

Schuldig thrust his tongue deeply into the soft mouth, feeling very, very satisfied with himself. He could have fucked Omi right then and there, and the boy would have been convinced that it was is own decision…

But, no, not yet. He had made Omi kiss him. Now he had to make him come back… come back of his own free will.

Schuldig deepened the kiss and let the young body beneath his dictate their frantic movements.

Omi’s legs slung around his torso and he sobbed into the kiss, as his climax was approaching, fast.

Schuldig caught a stray thought in which Omi cursed himself for his adolescent, quick reaction, but Schuldig squashed it. {Beautiful, sweet Omi. Give me what I want and take what you need.}

Omi threw his head back at those words and gasped for breath.

Schuldig let Omi’s excitement feed to him, like he’d done, last time. {Don’t hold back, sweet. Give me everything.}

The German knew that in that one moment, Omi would have given him anything and everything.

And Omi did.

For a long while, he just lay there, holding the rapidly breathing boy in his arms, kissing his face and his lips.

Once Omi had calmed down, Schuldig kissed him, deeply, once more, tongues tangling. {There, that wasn’t all that bad, was it?}

Omi jerked, gripping Schuldig’s t-shirt; reality crushing down on him with the voice in his head.

Schuldig smirked at that and kissed the white neck. “Don’t worry. I won’t come back, sweet Omi.” He felt the boy tense, and sent another calming wave into him. “Unless, of course… you want me to.”

Omi stared wide-eyed at the other man.

Schuldig winked. “Just… give me a _‘call’_ , yeah?” He got up, ignored the sticky mess in his pants and turned to leave.

One last smirk and he was gone.

Once outside, he breathed the morning air in deeply. He would make sure that Omi kept feeling calm for a few more hours. Then he would leave the kitten to his own devices.

And he knew that it would take the boy no more than a week to call him, again, because by then the burden would have become too hard to bear.

 

Schuldig was wrong. 

It took no more than four days.


	5. Part 4

Omi crouched on his bed, arms slung around his legs, while he rocked back and forth.

Four days. A mere four days since Schuldig had been here, and his resolve was crumbling so fast that he could practically watch it come down piece by piece.

An endlessly whispered litany passed his lips. “Oh, God. What am I going to do? Oh, please. Come back. Don’t come back. I need you. I hate to need you. I hate you. I hate myself. Oh, please, please…”

He needed, _needed_ … something. _Anything_. He needed to feel, again. He needed to lose himself, again.  
He needed another moment of peace. Just one more moment… Just one…

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it?   
He had felt it the very second when Schuldig had left his mind and took the calmness with him, as well.

It was more than the… the sex he missed.  
Though he wasn’t quite sure if he could call it that. Sure, a blow-job was definitely sex, but Schuldig hadn’t even asked for anything in return… And the last time was touching and feeling and – admittedly – coming… But still…

He missed the physical contact, someone to touch him, to hold him… to soothe his body…

Someone to soothe his mind…

He needed Schuldig.

His hand covered his eyes. “I can’t do this, anymore… I _can’t_ …” He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed.

He knew an addiction when he saw one. He had seen enough victims, when he was sent out to hunt the dealers and their bosses. And he was definitely addicted. But – as some small part of his mind argued – what damage could it do?  
He could die. But what good did it to stay alive if you didn’t live?  
He would betray the others. By sleeping with a sort of enemy? Schuldig could read minds, if he wanted to know something, he’d just pick it up from whoever he wanted.

Was he ready to risk his life for some sordid little affair with a man who had tried to kill him, repeatedly? Who had tortured him? Who could not be trusted, enemy or no?

But who else would understand? Who else could calm his mind, so that he was able to sort through his new, confusing views on life and death?

Fuck it. His eyes flew open, determined and he focused his tumbling thoughts. He had to make a decision, and by his own admission, he couldn’t take one of his possibilities. Which left only…

“Come back…” he whimpered. It was _his_ decision to make, and he _had_ made it.

{Come to me…}

A wave of calm accompanied the words and Omi felt the relief wash over him like a cleansing shower. He could breathe, again and nearly laughed out loud at the freeing feeling.  
But seeing as he knew perfectly well why that was… _‘You are one rotten bastard!’_

He stumbled into his bathroom to wash his red and blotchy face. It wouldn’t do for the others to see him like this. 

{Where are you?} Omi asked, concentrating on every syllable.

An amused answer followed. {Easy, sweet. I can hear you just fine. Just follow my lead and you’ll find me.}

‘Bastard.’

A laugh. {Of course. In every sense of the word.}

No surprise, there, but while he stared at his own reflection, he could also feel the pull towards the other man, and he was not at all sure if it was Schuldig who set _that_ hook.

And after feeling at least some resemblance to normal, again, curtsey of his friendly neighbourhood telepath, he couldn’t make himself ignore the call, especially, since he remembered the last days all too well.

Schuldig’s doing or not, he couldn’t stand that kind of desperation, anymore.

He snatched his jacket off the hook by the door and left, before he’d have the time to change his mind, again. He decided to leave through the back, to avoid the others. But as he put on his helmet, there was a tap on his shoulder.

Youji smiled at him. “Hey, kid. Where’re you headed?”

Omi was glad that he already wore his helmet. Youji would have caught on his immediate blush and would have interrogated him – only in jest, probably, but that would have been dangerous enough… “Just going out for a bit.” Then he added on a sudden impulse: “I haven’t been feeling well, lately. I could do with a change.” Well… That much was true, anyway. He smiled through his visor.

Youji clapped on his shoulder, when the younger man turned on his moped. “You’re right. It’s not good for someone as young as you to mope around his room all the time. Knock yourself out.”

Omi pulled out into the street. Hopefully, he would not be knocked out or otherwise… permanently… incapacitated.

He drove for more than five minutes, before he realised that he’d been following a mental map without thinking, kind of like walking the same way home from school for years… This path led him first to a parking lot and then to a hotel.

Omi entered the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The door slid close and Omi felt like being swallowed by emotions. Fear, anticipation, nervousness… Mostly fear, though. Fear of something inevitable.

He swallowed hard to counter the almost painful rush of blood pulsing trough his jugular vein and the roaring in his ears. His stomach was one big, cold knot, twitching in spasms.

But even greater was the fear of losing himself in his confusion. He preferred outright fear of an enemy or sex to uncertainties about morals, his job and the life and death of others.  
Fears were so much easier to face.

So he faced them, stepped out of the elevator, the room and its number lurking in his mind like a déjà vu.

He opened… to see a nicely furnished room. A small couch, a door to the bathroom on the left… and a huge bed right in the centre.

On the bed sat Schuldig, leaning against the headboard, long legs stretched and crossed at the ankle. Though he was dressed, his casual stance and wide grin made his intentions very clear, just in case Omi should have had any doubts about their evening’s activities.

“Hey there, Omi,” he greeted.

Omi’s breathing accelerated, but his heartbeat returned to a somewhat normal rhythm, now that he was facing his fears head on. Like an actor whose stage fright dissolves as soon as he is on stage.

“Are you going to stand there all night?”

Omi shook his head and forced himself to take one calming breath. “Not sure, yet.”

Schuldig chuckled and let his jacket slip from his shoulders. “I offered you once that I could make you participate. You refused… What about now?”

Omi shook his head. No… He didn’t want to be forced…

Schuldig pouted playfully. “Wasn’t going to force you, kitty. Just… _nudge_ you in the right direction.” The smirk was back.

“I… I…” Omi couldn’t voice what he wanted. The words were completely lost on him. Somehow he did want to… get physical, again, because he could almost still feel the soft lips and tongue, the teasing hands and the warm body, from the last time.  
On the other hand… His mind wouldn’t let him say it out loud.

{Your mind doesn’t have to let you say it out loud, sweet…} The tip of Schuldig’s tongue quickly wet his lips, while his eyes locked with Omi’s, never faltering. “Come here,” he purred.

And Omi did.

The young man knew for certain that Schuldig didn’t _‘nudge’_ or otherwise influence him, he didn’t have to.

Schuldig straightened and held out a hand when Omi came up next to the bed, all the while smirking with the attitude of someone who just _knows_ that no one can resist him.

Omi didn’t reach out for the hand, but knelt on the bed with one leg and leaned closer so that Schuldig could thread his fingers through Omi’s soft hair and pull him closer.

Schuldig’s tongue barely touched Omi’s lips, before it delved into the wet heat, starting its soft, sweet and tantalizing dance that made the young man’s other leg tremble and give in.

Schuldig caught him, held him tightly, tenderly and laid him on the bed, bending over him, letting him feel the pressure of his body.

And Omi gave up, gave in… in to Schuldig’s call, in to his own desires. It felt so good to just let go, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was all a mind trick and the touches and kisses weren’t making him feel like this, at all.

Schuldig slowed down the kiss, let his tongue play for a few moments longer and gave the sweet lips a parting lick. Leaving both of them out of breath, he said: “I don’t need telepathy to make you feel good, Omi…” He pressed his body closer and Omi moaned. “Or does that feel like it’s only in your head?”

Omi whimpered. “No.” No, it felt real, oh so real.

Schuldig’s expression softened for just a moment. “You can do it yourself, you know… Calm down, I mean.”

Omi blinked, confused.

“I’m not your therapist. I just want to have some fun… And it’s much more fun when you let go, sweet.” He lightly bit Omi’s nose, chuckled and then kissed it. “Did you think about what you want?”

Omi swallowed. Of course he had… It was painfully obvious, wasn’t it? After all, they were lying on a bed, Schuldig draped all over him, lips swollen and red from their kisses. “D… Don’t you know?”

Schuldig laughed and kissed and nipped Omi’s neck. “Of course I do… But I want you to say it. Never let it be said that it wasn’t your own free will…” He winked at the young man.

“I… I want… to… sleep with you.”

Schuldig lifted one eyebrow. “Not good enough, sweetheart.”

Omi blushed a bright red and his breath hitched. “I…”

Schuldig leaned closer and breathed into Omi’s ear: “Come on,” he urged. “Say it… I know you want to.”

“T… Take me,” the words were a mere whisper, but they made Schuldig’s hidden smirk widen.

*

Crawford’s gaze suddenly snapped up from where he was reading the newspaper, his eyes staring into distance. He could practically watch the gears of time shift, another puzzle piece of his most recent vision fall into place… Schuldig had made his decision. As had Tsukiyono.

“Brad?”

Crawford sighed, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“What’s wrong?” the soft but insistent voice inquired.

He put his glasses back on but didn’t turn to look at Nagi. “He never listens,” he remarked, as if that would answer all the questions.

Of course, at least some of them were indeed answered. “Schuldig?”

Crawford nodded. “Who else.”

“He’s with Bombay?”

Crawford stayed silent.

“Is he going to get in trouble?”

A sigh.

“Brad?”

Crawford crossed his legs and kept staring ahead. “Things are going to change.” He focused on his youngest team-mate.

*

Omi’s thighs quivered and parted wider to ease Schuldig’s pushing deeper. He ignored the pain the new sensation caused, he simply wanted more and deeper, to feel connected. His throat constricted at the sheer beauty of the feeling, he slung his arms around the other man’s neck and pulled him into a desperate and deep kiss.

Schuldig hooked an arm under one of Omi’s legs and angled it at the knee. He returned the kiss and pushed in the last bit until he was deeply seated inside the young and demanding body. He waited to let Omi adjust and chuckled at the stray though crossing the boy’s mind.

_‘Had I known it would feel like this, I wouldn’t have protested quite as much…’_

Omi blushed at Schuldig’s chuckle – guessing its reason correctly – and laughed and smiled lightly, before pulling the German closer, once again and hooking his free leg around his torso.

Schuldig readily accepted the invitation and started thrusting at a slow and revelling pace.

Omi arched his back, effectively attaching Schuldig’s lips to his throat. The knowledge of finally having sex, of feeling another man moving inside of him, lying with him, clinging to him, nearly overwhelmed him.

And Schuldig basked in that whirlwind of emotions and flashes of thoughts, knowing that he made the boy feel and think thus. He enjoyed watching the ecstatic and flushed face, the desperate moans and the erratic touches.

He quickened and hardened the pace, lifted Omi’s leg onto his shoulder, so his hand was free to pleasure the boy’s hardness in tune with his thrusts and he was rewarded with a constricted mewl and gasp from the young lips.

“Fuck! You’re beautiful!”

Omi hiccupped and pulled the man into another deep kiss to keep himself from asking for meaningless promises and empty declarations.

And Schuldig – catching the thought and feeling quite generous at the moment – whispered soothingly in his mind. {Don’t worry so, sweetheart.}

Omi threw his head back and gasped in his completion, Schuldig following him only seconds later.

After a minute of clasping, trembling and drifting in the afterglow, Schuldig withdrew and carelessly threw his condom onto the floor. Then he gathered the boy in his arms and closed his eyes, completely satisfied… for now.

 

He woke from his doze when Omi’s thoughts noticeably descended from their heights and the doubts reappeared. And, sure enough, the mattress shifted when the young man detangled himself from the secure embrace and sat, pensive.

Schuldig watched Omi’s thoughts for a while, but kept his eyes closed and his breathing even. Surprisingly, even though the post-orgasmic bliss had left Omi and he was once again able to think clearly, he didn’t fall into the same dark hole, he did, before. Omi was almost… balanced. 

How interesting.

Schuldig carefully rose and caressed Omi’s arms from the elbows up. He leaned forward and kissed the shoulder in a feathery light touch, wandering excruciatingly slowly towards the neck, barely letting Omi feel more than his breath on the soft skin. 

“I like your shoulders,” Schuldig whispered huskily.

Omi’s breath caught and he couldn’t stop the shiver pulsing over his back like a soft and cool electrical shock.

Schuldig kissed the white neck, let his tongue dance over the salty skin of the shoulder and back to the neck, all the while ghosting his finger tips after his tongue, feeling Omi shiver.

He chuckled into the magnetic shoulder. “Pity you’re not a girl.” He bit into the tensing juncture to the neck. “Easy, sweet. I prefer you with all the necessary boy bits, don’t worry. I just meant that you could wear something nice with thin straps for me to play with, were you a girl.”

Omi snorted. “Bet you’d like that.”

“Of course. I like to play…”

A deep breath. “But why with me?”

“Are you kidding?” Schuldig bit the nearest patch of skin, lightly. “You’re a tasty little morsel.” The bite softened into a kiss. “And you need to learn to relax more.”

Omi couldn’t quite bring himself to shake off the touches and kisses. He whimpered as another shiver ran down his back. He swallowed. “There must be other _‘tasty morsels’_ in Tokyo.”

“Ah… possibly.” He inched closer and leaned his chin on Omi’s shoulder. “But, baby, _you’re_ a challenge.”

Omi snorted. “Yeah, right. Why don’t you go after one of the others, then?

Schuldig laughed, outright, then. “I like you, babe, I really do.” He kissed his cheek. “And who would you want me to fuck?”

Omi ignored the tingle in his groin at the simple word.

“Kudou? Too easy. Hidaka?” He smirked. “Even easier.”

Omi turned, incredulously. “You think Ken would be easy?”

“He’s almost as starved for affection as you, but less inclined to just go and look for someone to touch than Youji. Therefore, he’d be more desperate for it than your team playboy.”

Omi blinked. That actually… made sense. “And… how come I am the bigger challenge?”

Schuldig shrugged. “You’re not. Not compared to the other three, anyway... and not for me,” he smirked. “But you’re more the type to strike my fancy; body and mind. And as for Fujimiya,” he added, “he’d block too much. No fun.”

Omi scowled at him. “You’ve got a team full of assassins of your own. Why not fuck them?” he asked, daringly.

Schuldig smirked into Omi’s neck. Not much longer and he’d have the kid talk more sexually than Kudou. “Well, let’s see. Not sure I would put my equipment anywhere near Farf… I’d like to still have all the bits attached, when I wake up the morning after.” He scrunched up his face at the thought of losing something important to Farfarello’s knives. “And I wouldn’t touch Nagi. I love the kid, but he’s even more of a kid than you are. And Brad… I mean, come _on_! He’s so uptight, I’d probably get stuck.”

Omi snorted, amused and tried to stop himself from laughing out loud. He failed, and the laughter bubbled out of him, as if it had built up for years. Finally, he rolled to lie on his side, while holding his stomach with both arms.

“Liked that, did you?” Schuldig watched the shaking boy and could almost virtually see the tenseness wash away with each passing laugh.

Omi gasped for breath… “It’s just… the picture…” he giggled. “The picture of you tailing behind Crawford, because you can’t get it out…” A new bout of laughter escaped and Omi turned on his back to look at the other man who was returning the gaze with an amused glint in his hypnotising eyes.

Schuldig simply enjoyed the view of the naked, laughing boy stretched out on the crumpled sheets for a while, before he lay down next to him and ran a hand along the length of the lithe body.

“You’re doing better, you know,” he informed the young man.

Omi felt a weird sensation rise at the compliment. “And why would you care about that?” he asked, his previous, carefree smile never quite leaving.

Schuldig bent over him to kiss him, once and smirked. “You’re much more enjoyable that way.”

“Am I?”

Schuldig chuckled. “Wouldn’t you agree that you prefer this day to the last?”

Omi averted his eyes. “I suppose…”

Schuldig leaned precariously close and remarked: “Therefore, what you project is quite enjoyable, too. And contrary to popular belief, I prefer my bed partners to project nice feelings.” With that he claimed the lips under his, once again in a deep, probing and arousing kiss.

{You didn’t think it would be over that quickly, did you?}

Omi responded before he could stop himself. {I had hoped it wouldn’t be…}

Schuldig laughed into the kiss. {I always knew my choice was the right one,} he stated, proudly. And he knew – probably better than Omi himself – that the young Weiß could be as ruthless as they come, but had a unique way of dealing with it. A way that Schuldig himself disliked, greatly.   
Schuldig was ruthless and he knew it. He wouldn’t have dreamed of ever denying that. But Omi… Omi was a different matter, entirely. He strictly separated that part of himself from the rest, which was why he crumbled so badly, as soon as someone suggested that he should live a little.

Both men hardened quickly at the kisses and touches and Schuldig hummed, satisfied. It would be interesting to see what would happen to Omi, once he couldn’t keep his dark and light side from each other, anymore…

Hm… Speaking of which… Omi’s darker side had no problems whatsoever with taking charge… Delicious.

Just as Omi parted his legs for more friction, Schuldig swapped their positions and smirked at Omi’s surprised expression. “I’m not going to do all the work for both of us, all the time…” And just to make clear what he wanted, _he_ parted his legs and let Omi lay between them.

Omi was about to protest, but Schuldig interrupted him. “You know me… I want it all. I do nothing halfway.”

And after a moment, the Bombay that was ready to kill, able to lead his team and capable to decide between life and death on a daily basis, made his first appearance in the bedroom and took – if a bit hesitantly – control.

The kiss started out being soft and gentle, until Omi realized that he was now in a position to reclaim the moments Schuldig had previously taken from him.

He nibbled, bit and licked, his hands roaming over the lean and strong body and into the red hair.

Schuldig purred at the attention. {Damn, you’re good!}

Omi answered with a moan; though a hint of uncertainty slowed his ministrations.

{All you need is over there,} Schuldig remarked and sent Omi a mental nudge toward the bedside table, where the lubricant and the condoms still lay. {Just use that. There’s no need to prepare me. Just fuck me.}

Omi’s hand snatched both items off the table, fumbled with the small package of a condom and ripped it open, trembling.

With a hungry look at Omi’s heat, Schuldig took the young man’s hands into his, steadying and helping him, and then Omi dealt with the lube by himself.

Schuldig waggled his eyebrows and leered. “Ready to go, sweetie?” Judging from the hectic breathing, the flushed face, the sweat sticking the blond strands to the forehead and the painfully hard erection, Omi was indeed more than ready.

“Steady him with one hand and go for it,” Schuldig advised, an amused tone colouring his voice.

Omi did just that and used his other hand to hold himself upright on the pillow next to Schuldig’s head.   
He tried to push through the resistant ring of muscles, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed. “It won’t go in!” he wailed.

Schuldig tensed from anticipation and gasped. “Of course it will. If you’d just stop going easy on me!” he griped out.

Omi tried, again, positioned himself and in one swift movement pushed hard.  
His breath caught in his throat, his eyes going impossibly wide.  
He’d pushed in… all… the… way. “God!” he rasped.

“Oh, yeah!” Schuldig laughed hoarsely. “ _Damn_ , it’s been too long since I got to bottom!”

Omi bit his lip, his eyes now shut in concentration. “I can’t… can’t move! I’ll come right away!” he whined, the thought of him making a fool of himself not at all appealing.

“Who the fuck cares?! Just move!”

 _‘Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God…’_ Omi tried to keep his thrusts slow, to hold out… But managed neither. After five hard and fast thrusts he shuddered and spilled his release.

Schuldig caught the gasping and trembling body close, as soon as Omi collapsed, held him close and hummed – almost – satisfied.  
But, damn, he had missed the feeling of a hard cock inside him… With most of his bed partners, he simply fucked them and walked away. It seemed like this sort of play held all kinds of merits…

And he still relished in the feeling of someone inside him, even though Omi softened by the second.

“You… you didn’t…” Omi breathed.

Schuldig grinned. „No, I didn’t. Care to rectify that?“

Omi lifted his head and looked at the smug German. “Rectify, how?”

“Use your imagination… Or my example,” he chuckled.

And Omi, still feeling satisfied, tingly, detached and more than slightly curious, returned the leer with a surprisingly matching one of his own, shifted lower and remarked dryly: “I always wondered what it would taste like…”


	6. Part 5

Omi hadn’t gotten all that much sleep that night and now faced _‘the morning after’_ with dark circles under his eyes, working on a flower arrangement.

“Long night?” inquired Ken.

Omi smiled at him, but didn’t answer.

Youji slung an arm around Omi’s shoulders and grinned. “But apart from being obviously tired, you look better. What happened? You got laid?”

Ken snorted and shook his head. “Leave it to you to solve everything with sex.”

Omi laughed at his team-mates’ banter. “I _am_ better, though.” He reflected on that for a moment and added: “Weird, but better.”  
Well, _weird_ was a matter of opinion. But as ‘weird’ as it was, he did feel better. Not that he had even an inkling of an idea why, but beggars can’t be choosers…

“Hn.” Youji let his hand fall off Omi’s shoulder. “Couldn’t think of a reason why sex would be weird.”

Omi shook his head, giggling. “Maybe it’s not the sex that’s weird, but the lover.” He lifted a daring eyebrow at Youji.

Youji turned to a laughing Ken and feigned shock. “Is he even old enough to say something like that?”

Omi hit him on the arm and Ken laughed louder.

Youji huffed. “Fine. Keep your secrets, then. I’ll find out, eventually.”

Omi snickered and went back to work, quite amused that Schuldig’s suggestion _‘when all else fails, tell the truth; nobody will believe it, anyway’_ worked like a charm.

But working silently left Omi with nothing but time to think.

Something was different, today. He was less edgy, less inclined to make himself suffer for doubting death’s top priority. But what had changed? He knew that sex – or even human contact – could never cause that in a mere day… No, it had to be something else.

He gave a mental, frustrated huff, careful to not let anyone actually hear it.

Why did stuff like this always happen to him, anyway? All his life, someone or something had forced him in a certain direction. First by his family and later by… well, his family.  
There had never been any choices. No left or right, just nasty falls into cold and dark waters, and the survival instinct making him survive again and again… 

The only thing he ever got to decide on was the death of his targets…

Omi froze, the stem of a delicate flower nearly breaking in his grasp, before he made himself relax.

Decision…

Schuldig had forced him to make one, hadn’t he, when he refused to contact Omi, unless Omi called him first.

It was a decision about his life, and he had made it.  
It could still be terribly wrong, but it was his.

He looked up and around the shop. Youji flirted with one of the few, mid-morning customers and Ken put together her bouquet of choice.

… Aya was still in the green house…

Omi, suddenly needing to talk to someone, hastily finished his arrangement and rushed to the back. “I’ll help Aya,” he announced and was gone, before either of the other two men could protest.

*

Aya turned slightly in acknowledgement, when Omi entered. “I’m almost done,” he said and returned to watering the young plants.

Omi fidgeted for a few long moments, wondering if he would just bang his head against a brick wall, with his sudden urge to ask for the usually so silent man’s opinion. “Can I talk to you?” he finally blurted.

Aya blinked, straightened and turned fully to study the teenager. He put down the watering can. “What’s on your mind?”

Omi struggled for the right words, until he asked: “Do you… think we should take death more seriously than everything else, to prevent ourselves from becoming the thing we hunt?”

Aya furrowed his brows. “No,” he said after a moment’s reflection, “if the death of people who don’t deserve to live is more important than the lives we save, we’d fight for the wrong reasons.”

“But… who are we to decide who doesn’t deserve to live?”

“We don’t,” came the prompt response. “Not even Kritiker does. It’s our targets themselves, who forfeit their right to live by what they are doing.”

Omi turned that thought around in his mind for a while.

Aya continued: “Take our last target, for example. Child prostitution, big style. And not only did he sell the children, but he used them, himself, too. And from what we managed to find out, at least five, possibly more, did not survive his _ministrations_.” His eyes flashed, angrily. “Now, imagine any of those children. Their pain, their fear, their desperation, and try to tell me that the bastard who was responsible wouldn’t have deserved a lot more than a clean death in two seconds.” His jaw tightened. “For twisted… _shits_ like him, I almost feel tempted to pay Schwarz for letting Farfarello play.”

Omi breathed as heavily as Aya, right now. He couldn’t remember ever seeing the man talk so much and open about his feelings. But taken what he had just said, their last target was most likely the reason for his outburst…  
But it made sense. It all made sense. And it wasn’t Schuldig who told him, this time…

Omi smiled, ruefully. “So… you don’t believe any of us should deny themselves a life for the ones we take?”

Aya smiled, slightly. “No, Omi, you shouldn’t.”

Omi nodded, once, and turned to leave. “Thank you.” And just before he stepped outside, he added: “And neither should you, you know…” He left.

Once outside, he breathed deeply and leaned against the door for a moment. He didn’t know if sleeping with Schuldig constituted as living his life, but he had certainly started to see the merits of it.

He closed his eyes. _’Can you get away, tomorrow?’_

{For my eager kitten? Naturally.}

*

Schuldig was standing on the balcony of Schwarz’ current apartment, sipping his still hot coffee and smirked. Ensnaring the kitten was even easier than he expected. Almost too easy…  
Well, nudging Omi towards Aya, when he knew that the volatile red-head ( _’pot, meet kettle,’_ he thought, self-mockingly) practically boiled from hatred for his last target, was an elegant move... But that didn’t really count as interfering, in his humble opinion, since he hadn’t influenced either man’s thoughts or views.

“Damn, I’m good,” he murmured.

After some minutes of happily drinking his coffee, he heard quiet steps coming closer.

“Schu?”

“Hey, kid.” He turned to look at Nagi and leaned his elbows on the railing.

“I’m worried about you.”

Schuldig snorted. “No beating around the bush, huh?”

Nagi just shrugged. “There’s something up, but Brad wouldn’t tell me what it was.”

Schuldig spread his hands, without lifting his elbows. “Then it’s probably not all that important.”

“On the contrary. I think it is.”

Schuldig sighed. “Kid, look… You know how he is. He can hit the roof, if his premonitions so much as tell him he’ll miss the subway… Not that he’d take it.” He pushed himself from the railing and stepped closer to the boy. “No need to fret. We’re not after them, they’re not after us. I’m not even interfering with their work.” He smirked. “I can be a good boy, if I want to.”

Nagi snorted, but couldn’t hold back a small smirk. “Would Bombay call you a _good boy_?”

Schuldig leered and chuckled. “I’m sure he’d say that I was _very_ good…”

Nagi scrunched up his face and Schuldig laughed.

“It’s so easy to make you blush.”

Nagi pouted. “I still think it’s stupid to ignore Crawford’s warning, just so you can have your fun with Bombay.” And generally, it _was_ very stupid not to listen to a precognitive. What good did a talent like that one, if you intended to ignore it, anyway?  
But Nagi guessed that it was just Schuldig’s way to challenge fate…

“Maybe,” Schuldig allowed. „But don’t you think that if it was _really_ important, he would have told me so?”

Nagi tilted his head. He hated to admit it, but that made sense. If it were a matter of life and death, a matter of Schwarz, Crawford wouldn’t have let Schuldig play. He would have straight out forbidden it. But he didn’t… “But…” he considered, “then why did he say anything at all?”

Schuldig nodded slowly, conceding that point, as well. “Probably so he’ll be able to say _‘I told you so,’_ later.” He winked.

That actually made Nagi giggle.

Schuldig smirked, satisfied to have gotten that rare reaction. He slung an arm around the boy’s shoulders and steered him inside. “How do you feel about catching a movie?”

“I’d like that,” came the quiet response.

*

Youji entered the mission room where Omi worked on the computer and sat down to wait until the young man finished his work.

It didn’t take long. Omi turned off the computer, stretched and turned his head from side to side.

Youji grimaced when the joints made an audible snap and Omi groaned, relieved. “Ouch. That must have hurt…”

Omi turned, smiling slightly. “Actually, it hurt a lot more, before…” He studied his friend. “Do I get another heart-to-heart?”

Youjis shrugged, nonchalantly. “Do you need one?”

“Not really, no.”

Youji put his arms on his knees and leaned forwards. “Which means _‘yes, but I don’t want to tell you what bothers me,’_ I guess…”

Omi smiled a little. “Perhaps a little. It’s just… that things are changing and I want to know what I actually think, before I tell you what problems I have with what I think.”

Youji laughed. “Can you say that three times in a row?”

They smiled at each other in companionable silence. Youji knew how to lighten a situation, without making anyone feel stupid… He teased, of course, but he never intentionally hurt.

Youji was… a good friend to have; but he was also physically unable to keep quiet for long…

“What does change in your way of thinking?” Youji asked after a short while.

Omi chuckled. He just knew that Youji wouldn’t let it rest. “I… I’m starting to believe that maybe I don’t have to deny myself a life, after all.”

Youji blinked, confused. “Why would you think that, kid? You, most of all, deserve to live.”

Omi sighed. “Youji, I’m a killer. I decide who to kill and then go out and kill them.”

“And save how many lives along the way?” He shook his head. “Look, this is silly. If you actually believed that what we are doing is wrong, why would you still be doing it?”

Omi nodded. “See, that’s what I meant. I’m reconsidering.”

Youji leaned back in his seat. “Well, continue to reconsider. You _do_ deserve to live.” He thought for a moment. “Then, what exactly is the problem?”

Omi laughed. He had a feeling that he shouldn’t try telling the truth, again… That might not go over well, a second time. “What would you consider living one’s life?”

“Hm,” Youji reflected. “Dunno. Go out, make friends, get a girlfriend. That kind of thing…”

“Not exactly what you’re doing…”

Youji shrugged. “For me… keeping relationships on the surface makes things easier. I don’t think I would even dare to try anything serious – romantically or not – just now, aside from you guys.” He lowered his eyes, a slight blush on his cheeks. He didn’t exactly like to talk about this kind of thing about himself. But he couldn’t very well ask Omi to talk and then keep quiet himself. “But I don’t think that’s the right thing for you…”

“Why is it the right thing for you? Doesn’t it feel shallow? Why risk a relationship at all, no matter how on the surface you keep it?”

Youji chuckled. “Are you kidding? I just like the sex. It’s… a way to get some human contact without being afraid of disappointing or even endangering the partner.” He tilted his head, considering. “And… I guess I’m just too tactile a person. I need it.”

“And why wouldn’t that be right for me…?”

Youji shrugged and breathed, loudly. “Dunno… Sweetheart, you only just come from having kissed a girl for the first time. I just don’t think that jumping into bed with someone only for the sex is what you need.” Then he smirked. “But, hey, what do I know? You feel like boinking your brains out, go right ahead. Everyone needs to be touched.”

Omi snorted, amused.

“And if you need any advice, come straight to uncle Youji…” He winked.

And, just then, an idea came to Omi on how he could shock the entirely too self-satisfied man and at the same time, lead him from finding out the truth, too soon…  
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well… I appear to be gay. Any advice on that?”

Youji practically choked on his laugh and stared at Omi’s honest, blue eyes. “You’re shitting me!”

Omi smiled and shook his head. “’Fraid not.”  
And to his satisfaction, he saw Youjis shoulders sag in relief, as the older man believed to have figured out, why Omi must have been so out of sorts, lately.

A relieved laugh followed, suit. “Jeez! No wonder you’ve been so confused…”

Omi just shrugged and felt as light, as he hadn’t in a long time. Just talking about problems, having someone to listen, to understand… He might not have told him about Schuldig, but like the German said: He could calm himself, if he tried.

And he would do just that. He would allow himself to be happy to have his friends, each of whom he loved like a brother, and he would allow himself to find out where exactly it was that his… thing with Schuldig would lead him.

 

The worst that could happen would be him dying.

And the best… Well, he didn’t really know that...


	7. Part 6

Fujimiya Aya (well, _Ran_ , really, but somehow, after all this time, the others didn’t seem capable of seeing him as anything but Aya, so he had accepted being Aya for his friends) was generally a very quiet person. It wasn’t that he was not interested or not part of the goings on around him… But that he _watched_.

He watched and learned. He saw things that others shrugged off, mannerisms, single words uttered under one’s breath… Little things, really.

Aya noticed things. Aya noticed _people_.

Aya noticed things about Omi. 

The change in his attitude, the increasing absence that Youji and Ken had explained with a boyfriend, the _‘colourful’_ vocabulary, the enhanced and unmistakably sexual consciousness of his body…

Omi had stopped to separate his professional and private self. He was less morose about his night job and less cheerful with the flower shop customers. He had found some sort of middle way…

Something Aya was almost tempted to shrug off as a part of growing up, leaving puberty… But Omi was no normal teenager. He was an assassin, trained to be ruthless since he was twelve. 

People like him didn’t _‘grow up’_ to deal differently with their fate.

Nor did just some boyfriend trigger such changes. Unless, of course, he knew what to say about the weight on Omi’s shoulders. And to be able to comment on that weight, he would have had to have been told about it…

Aya sighed, closed his eyes, briefly and returned to count the cash to lock it in the safe.

Taking Omi’s changes and noticing the things as he did… made him worry. But he couldn’t really link those worries and Omi’s relaxed – almost relieved – attitude. Had his worries been founded, Omi shouldn’t have been so obviously better, but deeply depressed and confused.

 

Which was why Aya kept his quiet… and watched.

He watched to notice the additional key on Omi’s key-chain, when the young man left in high spirits for the weekend…

*

Right now, Omi felt every cell in his body respond to a huge variety of impressions.

The salt in the air, the light breeze, the warm sun, the sand on his legs and arms… and of course, the body he straddled, the tongue caressing his, the hands driving him mad, the heat so prominent against his own, the sounds of passion…

{The beach was an excellent idea, my little kitten in heat…}

{Didn’t think either of us had had a lot of chances to come here like normal people.} He moaned into the kiss, as a curious hand grabbed his behind, precariously dipping into the still clothed crack.

Schuldig chuckled.

{Don’t tempt me. We’ve got a perfectly fine apartment for more action, Schu.}

Schuldig broke the kiss and smirked up at the young man. “And why shouldn’t I tempt you?” he asked, his voice husky. “I’ve had you in public places, before…”

Omi blushed. It was surprising, really, how much he could still blush after three months of being defiled in every sexual way possible. He lowered his voice, even though there was no one in sight. “That wasn’t on the beach during the weekend… Someone is bound to discover our spot, sooner or later.”

Schuldig’s smirk widened. „And I should care about that? Why?” His tongue darted out, teased Omi’s own into participating.

Omi’s eyes grew heavy and he sighed. “You’re impossible…” But he gave in, lowering his head for another deep kiss. 

This new awareness for his bodily needs fascinated him. He had always known that he was tactile, but the extend was new to him.

He strung some coherent thoughts together and sent them at Schuldig. {How come you get to top more often than I do?} Even now… Omi was on top, but seeing as he was straddling the other, it was obvious who would have been taking whom, had Omi allowed it.

Schuldig chuckled into the kiss. {Didn’t you know? That’s how the bad guys do it…}

Omi lifted his head, as a giggle escaped at that. “Oh? I thought the bad guys take what they want…” He smirked. “And you always _take_ it like a man…”

Omi yelped and laughed as Schuldig swapped their position to bend over him. “Little rat,” he grumbled, grinning and claimed a deep kiss in retaliation…

… That was interrupted by a squeak.

Omi’s head swivelled around to see a scandalized woman and her dog hurrying away. He sat up, terribly embarrassed.

Schuldig rolled onto his back and laughed out loud.

This time, Omi turned beet red to the roots and hid his face in his hands. But after only a few moments, his shoulders started to shake and he turned to Schuldig, trying to glare and failing miserably, as a laugh bubbled out of him. “You!”

Schuldig put on his best _‘Who? Me?’_ expression.

Omi shook an admonishing finger in front of Schuldig’s face. “You did this!” he accused.

Schuldig’s not-quite-believable innocent expression melted into another smirk. “Of course I did…” He laughed. “And it was so worth it!”

Omi bit his lips to keep himself from laughing, once more, put on his discarded shirt and closed the zipper and button of his jeans that must have come undone sometime during the last half hour.

Schuldig pouted and pointed towards his crotch. “But I’ve got a problem, here…” he whined and then had to hurry after Omi, who strode ahead to their car. He hastily put on his shirt, too.

“Which I will tend to, when we get back,” Omi yelled over his shoulder. Embarrassed or not, he _was_ going to get his turn.

Schuldig could make out how Omi mumbled under his breath “can’t believe he did that” and laughed, while jogging to catch up with him. The prospect for the night looked promising; especially, since Omi’s thoughts didn’t in the least revolve around revenge for the little stunt, but were turning considerably more pornographic by the minute.

He was having entirely too much fun.

*

Aya sat in his Porsche and watched the bleeping light on the tracking device in front of him distancing, slowly.

He stayed there for a long time, waiting, until the blip stopped in the city. He enlargened the map on the screen and memorized the address…

The area was not unknown to him. He was even quite sure to know what building it was. Small apartments, if he was not mistaken.

He closed his eyes for a moment, rubbed them with one hand and swallowed. Small apartments. Too small for a team of four people, surely…?

And he would have bet his life that Omi’s additional key fit, there, never mind that he never betted.

He shook his head to clear it, and keep himself from breaking down, before he could talk to the others.

 

The white sports car left, following the costal street back into the city.

*

Schuldig lay on his back, trying to keep intruding thoughts out of his mind, so that he could take stock of his own.

Omi dozed with his head on Schuldig’s chest, no doubt being exhausted after Schuldig had taken him on the kitchen table, only to return the favour on the bed, fifteen minutes later.

Schuldig’s lips quirked into an amused smirk. Oh, yes, it had been very satisfying…

The smirk vanished, as his thoughts took another turn to the one topic he felt increasingly uncomfortable with: Omi. Or, rather, the fact that Omi still held his interest, after three months.

Up until now, Schuldig didn’t care about that. He had fun, he had a willing and creative bed partner… Why should he question that he took what he wanted? He’d always done that. And right now, he wanted Omi. The gods only knew for how much longer it would last…

On the other hand, he wasn’t a precog – and damn glad about it, too – but all he had to do was look at the past months to know that Omi couldn’t be like his other conquests, anymore, either.

For one, no one – and he did mean _no one_ – had ever been able to keep him interested for more than two weeks, max; most didn’t even last a night. For another, something about Omi called to him, something that kept him around between the sex.

And very slowly, he began to recognize what that was… 

He had always compared people’s thoughts with honey. Sweet and thick, inviting him.  
But, just like honey, those thoughts held a sticky feel to them. Greedy, egoistical, cruel, petty little mortals. Always after their own profit.

Schuldig knew that sticky side of the human nature, he even liked it. Liked to use it to crush, destroy, hurt… to string along the brainless, selfish puppets that the humans were.

Children were still different. Even the worst of the little bastards wasn’t quite like that. Interesting, in a way, certainly… but those thought patterns weren’t calling to him. Ignorance was boring.

And then… there was Omi. His thoughts radiated childlike innocence, despite the killing, the ruthlessness and his recent – and quite perverted, in Schuldig’s not so humble opinion – sex-life.

Omi’s thoughts weren’t sticky. They were sweet and rich, intoxicating and dizzying in their clarity. Addicting, pulling him in, like a whirlpool of liquid and warm gold.

That gold had always shimmered through, but now it flowed and flooded the boy’s whole being.

And Schuldig had been the one to break the dam.

The golden thoughts felt as warm as the body in his arms, and it didn’t take long for him to forget his worries and be lulled to sleep…

 

… Only for both of them to be woken by a loud knock on the front door.

Schuldig immediately did a quick scan of the minds on the other side and… “Oh, _fuck_!” he swore with feel.

Omi jumped out of the bed and got dressed, while Schuldig rubbed his face, annoyed.

“Who is it?” Omi asked hastily.

“You have three guesses,” Schuldig answered with a mocking smile on his lips.

Omi swivelled around to stare at him. “And they’d all three be correct?”

“Got it in one.”

“Shit!” He pulled his shirt over his head, just when there was another, louder knock. “Coming!” He turned to Schuldig, once more. “Get dressed, please.” Then he rushed through the small kitchen and opened the door to the not so surprising view of his three angered and worried team-mates.

“Hey, guys.” He tried the casual approach and hoped that it would work. “You wanna come in?”

It didn’t.

The three did step inside, but Aya came right to the point: “Is he still here?”

Omi supposed that lying wasn’t really going to get him anywhere at this point and shrugged. “He’s getting dressed. We weren’t exactly expecting you.”

Youji crossed his arms. “So, you’re not chumming up to all of them, then, are you?”

Omi blinked, while sorting through what Youji was implying, then snorted. “Chumming up to Crawford?” he asked sceptically.

Omi’s cool and amused tone triggered Ken’s unbelieving and shocked form into action and he uttered a strangled sort of yell, before he seemed coherent enough to form words: “For Christ’s sake, Omi! Crawford?! As if _he_ wasn’t bad enough!” he screamed and waved a hand in the bedroom’s general direction. “I mean, it’s… it’s…” He swallowed. “I can’t even _say_ it…”

“Schuldig,” came the voice from the closed bedroom.

Omi rolled his eyes and half turned to the door. “Shut up! You’re not helping!”

Schuldig laughed and peeked out of the room. “I’ll hit the shower. Do try to keep them from coming after me, yes?”

“Yeah, yeah. Shoo, Schu.”

Schuldig slammed the door. “Ha, bloody, ha.”

Despite the situation, that made Omi giggle. He cleared his throat and turned back to his puzzled team-mates. “Uh… Anyone up for a coffee?”

Ken didn’t really care about coffee, at the moment and held Omi’s shoulder. He’d only known about the whole thing for half an hour and still hoped that he would wake from this nightmare any second. “Wha-what’s going on? I mean… I guess it’s obvious… A-and Aya saw you at the beach and you were…” He shook his head.

“Making out. I know.” Omi could have bit his tongue at that moment – and, actually, he did – but Schuldig’s dismissive and amused attitude was a bit catching.

Youji stepped in and made a calming motion along Ken’s back with his hand. “What were you doing at the beach of all places?”

Omi shrugged. “What do people do on the beach on weekends? They relax.” At the other’s blank expression he added: “Neither of us had been to the beach, since… Well, since _then_. And it felt good to do something normal, you know.” Very deliberately, he stepped around the small dining table to the coffee machine and took out cups. He sighed. “Please, have a seat. You’re making me nervous.”

Aya’s incredulous expression would have been amusing at any other time. “ _We’re_ making you nervous?” We walked up to Omi, leaned one hand on the counter top and looked at him intently. “It doesn’t make you nervous that you’re sleeping with an assassin, who has been trying to kill us all? That he has three team-mates, all of which are at least as dangerous as he is?”

A little helpless and not knowing what else to do, Omi pointed at the coffee machine. “Black?” he asked.

Aya returned the nervous gaze with a calming one of his own. Then, suddenly, he sat down and said: “Yes, please.”

Omi released the breath, he’d been holding and started the machine.

Behind his back, Aya motioned Ken and Youji to sit down as well.

That decided, Youji clapped his hands, once, sat down and declared: “Can you magic me an espresso, kid?”

Omi could have laughed out loud, in relief. “Sure, Youji. Ken?”

Ken let himself slump into a chair and just shook his head.

Omi bit his lip. Had he been in Ken’s – hell, in _any_ of the other’s – situation, he’d probably have hit the roof, completely. “Uhm… Some… juice? I think we have some cookies left, too.”

Ken managed to nod at the juice-question, but otherwise just stared. 

Youji rubbed the bridge of his nose, when he heard about the cookies. He really didn’t want to think about Omi sharing a sort of weekend-apartment with Schuldig, where they had a coffee machine and _cookies_. Assassins like Schuldig were not supposed to eat cookies!  
He cleared his throat. “Just how often are you here, Omi?”

Omi looked up from where he put the remaining cookies onto a plate. “Whenever I stay out over night, I’m here.”

“Is it his apartment?” Aya asked.

Omi shook his head, put the sweets and Aya’s coffee on the table. “No, actually, it’s mine.” He got Youji’s coffee and Ken’s juice. “I bought it last month. It seemed easier than hotels. And it feels nice to have a sort of refuge, I guess.”

Ken accepted his glass and stared at it. “Do you need one so badly?”

Ouch. How to answer that? Omi didn’t want to hurt his friends… But there really was only one answer. “Yes, I do.”

Youji sipped his coffee. “Bad enough to sleep with the enemy?”

“ _Rival_. And yes.” He sat on the last chair and leaned back, his own coffee in both hands. “You know how it is… To need someone to touch.” He caught Youji’s eyes, pleadingly. “But I wouldn’t even have considered looking for it, out of fear and… and… self-loathing for what I have to do, night after night.” He held the cup closer. “With Schuldig… I don’t have to pretend. Anything at all.”

Three pairs of eyes stared at him, the same question in all of them. Aya asked it: “Do you have to pretend with us?”

Omi smiled. “Not anymore. I… Things changed.”

And they all knew why that was…

Youji took a deep breath, held it for a moment and rushed: “Do you love him?”

Omi blinked. He had expected that question, but it still surprised him, now that it was asked. “I… am fond of him, I guess.” He paused. “And I feel comfortable with him. But I don’t really have any basis of comparison for love, apart from you guys, and that’s obviously not the same.” He smiled a little, crooked smile.

“Your sister?” Ken asked, his jaw set.

Omi’s smile vanished. “Sometimes… it feels like she wasn’t all there, you know…? It all happened so fast, getting to know her… my _family_ , in general.” His eyes narrowed a bit. “But Ouka… I loved her, sure, but there wasn’t the time to live with it.”

Youji nodded. “But how did it happen? I mean, I know you didn’t one day decide to like him; and he doesn’t strike me as the type to give a damn about it, anyway…”

Omi chuckled. “No… He pursued me, purely for his own entertainment. Remember the day I came home late after the mission?” He waited for a round of nods. “He appeared out of the blue and kissed me. Shocked the hell out of me, I can tell you that…”

“And still you decided to continue,” Aya remarked.

“Not right away. But he can be very persuasive.”

“So, you trust him, then?” Youji, again.

Omi lifted one eyebrow. “Do I look stupid? The last time he played with me, my sister died.”

Ken waved his hands in desperation. “Then why…?”

“Because I want to. It’s good to have someone and I’m actually happy.”

“But… with _him_?”

“Yes. With him,” Omi replied calmly.

As if on cue – and maybe he had waited for it; one could never be sure with Schuldig – the German entered the room, thankfully fully dressed.

“Imagine that,” he said, grinning at Ken. Then he grabbed a cookie and turned to Omi, before the tension that had just tenfolded could be let loose on him. “Tell you what. Since you’re going to be busy, I’ll do the shopping, on my own. Deal?” He popped the cookie in his mouth.

Omi looked at him, sceptically. “That’s awfully generous of you…”

Schuldig just smirked. „I’ll give you guys half an hour.“ He looked at each of them. “Then I want my boy back for the weekend.”

Ken was about to protest, loudly and angrily that Omi was not his to order around, but Omi stopped him, before he could say something: “I was going to stay, you know. We don’t get whole weekends, often.” Then he turned a glare at Schuldig. “And _you_ … behave.”

“Only if you make it worth my while, later…” he leered and kissed Omi, letting his tongue deliberately obviously slide inside.  
Laughing at the shocked silence, he headed for the door and said: “Later, kitties.”

*

Schuldig was awfully punctual, when he wanted to be… Exactly thirty minutes later, he opened the door to a heated debate.

“… _please_ , Omi!” urged Ken.

Omi lifted his eyes to look at the newcomer, and none of Weiss could miss the slight smile on the young man’s lips at the sight of their rival. “Ken…” he reasoned, “… there’s no need to worry, now. I’ve been seeing him for months. I’m not going to die ‘till Monday morning.”

Schuldig ignored the ongoing argument and stowed away his purchases.

Youji followed his movements, intently and sighed. He had seen more than just the smile on Omi’s face, earlier. He had seen the soft expression in his eyes, as well. A short glance at Aya confirmed that the other man had seen it, too. ”Ken, it’s his decision.”

“But… How can you be so calm about it?”

“We’re not,” added Aya. “But like Youji said, it’s Omi’s private time, his life and his decision. It’s not our place to interfere, as long as it doesn’t affect missions.” He hesitated. “And to be quite honest, Omi’s performance got better not worse.”

Schuldig closed the fridge and turned to lean against it.

Youji sent him a cool look. “Consider yourself warned, Schuldig. It might not be our decision, but he’s still our friend.”

The man just smirked. “I will henceforth consider myself warned.” He bowed mockingly. “And now buzz off. You’re cutting short my sex-life.”

Reluctantly, but obviously decisive, Youji and Aya stood. Youji took a hold of Ken’s arm. “Ken. Let’s go.”

Ken let himself be pulled to his feet, but was still rooted to the spot. He felt sick and dizzy. This just couldn’t happen… Omi wasn’t supposed to look so happy, not with… _Schuldig_ being the reason for it. “Omi…” He swallowed, unable to voice his concerns.

Omi stepped closer and hugged his friend, tightly. “It’s going to be okay, Ken,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Ken returned the embrace, desperately. “How can you be so sure?”

Omi smiled a little into Ken’s shoulder. “I’m not. But, Ken… it’s worth it to me.”

Ken stepped back and breathed deeply. He pointed a warning finger at Omi. “You’re going to come to work on time, Monday morning, you hear?”

Omi laughed and saluted. “Promise.”

And as the door closed behind his friends, Omi knew that there would be a lot to talk about, when he was back home… He would have preferred to have that talk, now, but he had been looking forward to this weekend so much... The talk would just have to wait. And he hoped that the others wouldn’t worry too much.  
He snorted. “They’ll worry themselves sick, ‘till Monday.”

Schuldig sat on a chair and leaned back. “I could block their worries a bit…” He smiled, smugly.

Omi turned to look at him. “Block…?”

Schuldig shrugged. “Just a bit. They wouldn’t even notice.” He chuckled. “And I wouldn’t want _your_ thoughts revolving around them all weekend…”

Omi blinked. “And they would really be okay…?”

Schuldig nodded.

That nod didn’t seem very comforting with the smirk that went along with it, but Omi was used to it, by now. “Okay. Do it.”

Schuldig closed his eyes for a few moments.

Omi watched him, curious and walked over to him. He had never actually seen the man _‘at work’_ , as it were. Schuldig’s eyes were moving behind his eyelids and a slight frown appeared for a few seconds, before he opened his eyes, again.

“Done,” he declared. He didn’t seem surprised to have Omi this close, suddenly, and pulled him onto his lap.

Omi went, willingly and kissed him. He hummed, happily. “Don’t make me a liar, again, by coming late, on Monday, okay?” he murmured.

Schuldig just chuckled. „Again? When have you lied to them, before? Holding back information is not lying.”

Omi laughed. “I know. I meant… when I told them that I don’t trust you.”

Schuldig’s expression froze. „You’re not that stupid, now, are you?“

Omi shrugged. “Maybe I am. It’s not like it matters…”

Schuldig stared at him, incredulous. “Doesn’t matter? What do you think would happen, if I was ordered to kill you?”

Omi smiled a soft smile. “Then I would trust you to make it quick.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Schuldig said, still staring at Omi. Then he caught himself at letting his surprise show too much and laughed, lifted Omi up and laid him back onto the table, bending over him. “Out of your mind, but really good in bed.”

Omi giggled and pulled the man into a kiss.

 

But despite the laugh, that declaration had startled Schuldig. He wasn’t used to that kind of trust. Not from anyone but his team-mates; and certainly not from someone, he used to hurt as much as he had hurt Omi in the past.

That was… different. Confusing but… nice.


	8. Part 7

Ken sat in the darkened flower shop, no more than the small lamp next to the register highlighting his worried features, and looked at his watch for the umpteenth time and still it wasn’t any later than 6.58 a.m. 

Omi wouldn’t be here for another hour…

He shouldn’t have let the young man stay. He shouldn’t have let the others convince him. He shouldn’t have…

A gentle hand on his shoulder made him jump and gasp. “Youji! Jesus! Don’t scare me like that!”

Youji just smiled and handed Ken the warm cup he had held securely in his other hand. “Here. Thought you might need this.”

Ken accepted the tea, gratefully and rubbed his eyes. “Thanks,” he murmured, though he felt more like cursing his heart out.

Youji sat on the nearby table and picked up his coffee that he had put there, having had the foresight that he’d probably get it hit out of his hand, otherwise. “You okay?”

“Do I look okay?”

“Nope.” He sipped the warm beverage and looked pointedly at Ken. “But how _‘okay’_ were you since we’ve seen Omi?”

Ken answered Youji’s look with a confused and annoyed one. He just really didn’t feel like playing guessing games. “I felt like crap.”

“Really?”

Ken huffed, angrily. “Is there a point to this?”

Youji tilted his head. “You know… The three of us have been surprisingly calm about the whole thing, since not long after we left their apartment.”

Ken blinked. That… was true. “I guess…” he allowed. “Calm or not, I’ve been worried out of my skull.”

Youji made a small, pensive nodding motion and took another swallow. “I think… that there was a reason why you _didn’t_ actually lose it, which would have been more than likely.”

Ken’s hand began to shake and he put his cup on the counter. “You… think that Schuldig did this?”

“I’m quite sure, yes.”

Ken went as pale as a sheet. “He… he wanted us not to worry?” So that meant that Schuldig had done something to Omi, after all, and…

Youji’s hand on his shoulder made him jump, again.

“Hey, easy. I don’t think that anything’s wrong with Omi. He probably asked Schuldig to make sure we’d survive the weekend.” He grinned, crookedly.

“But you’re not sure…”

Youji sighed. “No. Not quite, anyway. But moderately sure…” He patted Ken’s shoulder and smiled. “We’re just going to have to wait until he gets here.”

Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait that long… Just then, they heard the key unlock the shutter and a moment later it opened to a smiling but slightly worried looking Omi.

“Morning, guys!”

Ken all but collapsed in his chair out of sheer relief and if his legs hadn’t felt like jelly, he would have hugged Omi within an inch of his life. “Thank all the gods!” he whispered and was glad that at least one of them must have listened to one of his quite numerous recent prayers.

Youji’s relief was just as great, if less apparent than Ken’s. He just smiled at the young man. “You’re early,” he remarked.

Omi nervously pulled at the hem of his shirt, until he noticed that he was doing it and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Uhm… Crawford called Schu early this morning and he had to go. I thought… that you might appreciate it, if I didn’t make you wait any longer.”

Ken burst out a laugh. “You could say that.”

“So, how was your weekend?”

Everyone turned to the fourth voice from the stairs, where Aya stood. He looked calm, but his eyes had dark circles under them, obviously from lack of sleep.

Omi’s smile vanished. The question seemed harmless, but it could have held enough disappointment, no matter the neutral tone.

Aya sighed. “I am not judging you, even if it might sound like it… I just really want to know, if it was worth it.”

Now, all eyes lay on Omi, as he tried to give the answer each of them already knew.  
The left corner of his mouth lifted, ever so slightly, to a wistful smile. “Of course it was. I might not have had any idea what I was getting into when all this with Schuldig started.” His eyes unfocused in thought. “But having you guys in the equation…” He shook his head to clear it. “If I’d had any doubts about being with him, I would have chosen you. I would have left him and tried to deal with it.”

Aya tilted his head and studied the young man thoughtfully. “But you didn’t.”

Omi breathed deeply. “I didn’t.”

All of them exchanged looks, and Omi tried to grasp the meaning behind those of the others. He still didn’t exactly know what he would have to be dealing with.  
Now that he had decided. Now that he once again had been forced to decide…

Omi’s widening smile was hard to miss. “I didn’t. I chose not to.”

The first to answer the smile was Ken, who swallowed, hard, before he could speak. “It… feels good to make your own destiny, doesn’t it?”

Omi bit his lip and nodded.

And, finally, Ken managed to stand up and give his friend the fierce hug he so desperately needed.

*

Schuldig stood on the balcony, once again, following the erratic but relieved thoughts of his young lover, as the littlest Weiß finally had the talk with his team-mates.

He held a cigarette in his hand and played with it absent-mindedly. He hadn’t smoked in over six years, but this morning, he had felt a sudden urge… Not to smoke, really, but the urge to have something reliable, something well-known… something that still tied him to his past. He felt like he was losing himself.

Crawford’s behaviour earlier hadn’t helped that feeling one bit, either. First, he had been ordered home, immediately, only to discover that their leader was nowhere in sight, because _‘something had come up,’_ as Nagi had told him.

So he had convinced the first smoker he had happened to pass to give him a fag.

He took a deep drag – only his second one, even though the bud was already burned down half way – and was surprised to feel the once so pleasant and relaxing smoke burn his throat, fiercely.

He stared at the cigarette, as if it had personally offended him and shook his head at his own stupidity. What had he been thinking, anyway? Crawford had forbidden all of Schwarz to smoke (though it was directed at Schuldig, as he had been the only one to indulge in it, at the time), and after the initial troubles, Schuldig had been unbearably smug at having defeated the drug…

For a while, he stared at the roll of paper and tobacco in his hand, his thoughts as unfocussed as his eyes.

Then his vision cleared and his expression hardened, and he angrily threw the cigarette from the balcony, secretly hoping it would hit someone, or at least ruin an expensive suit.

It didn’t take long for one of the two reasons why he liked their balcony, to interfere with his brooding.

One reason was the calm air and the solitude. Hearing all the noise from below, but still being able to block all the thoughts that went with it because of the distance. It was… almost serene.

And the other reason found him every time, the solitude would become too much…

“Schu?”

Schuldig allowed a small smile to quirk his lips, before he turned and faced Nagi with a perfectly composed face. “Let me guess. You’re worried.” He smirked.

Nagi smiled, hesitantly. “I saw you smoking…” He didn’t ask a question, but let his remark sound like one.

Schuldig dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Just dragged twice and got bored.”

The boy’s usually so stoic expression didn’t have much of a stamina, these days… The fractional widening of his eyes, the slight tilt forward of his head… Nagi was worried. And not just a bit, but obviously with good reason.

“Wanna tell me what bothers you?”

Nagi lowered his gaze, completely and stared at the ground. “I…”

Schuldig bit back a chuckle. “You…?”

Nagi took a deep breath and rushed out: “If you’re so desperate to fuck younger guys, you should just sleep with me and spare us all a lot of trouble!”

For a second, Schuldig wasn’t sure whether he should be mortified or insanely amused by that. But a short glimpse at the young man’s thoughts confirmed that Nagi hadn’t developed some kind of crush on him, but would have simply been ready to take the comfortable companionship one step further, out of sheer worry for him… and to confirm through physical contact that everything was alright.

It was really quite cute, Schuldig thought, and decided to just be amused. He even managed to control his urge to laugh out loud. Instead he held out a hand and tuned down his smirk to a minimum.

Nagi sceptically looked at the offered hand.

“Krümel, come here,” Schuldig said, softly.

Nagi didn’t seem entirely calmed by that gesture or the soft voice, but did as Schuldig asked and was surprisingly caught in a warm embrace. One he didn’t really know how to respond to.

Schuldig just held him for a while with one arm and said: “I wouldn’t know morals if God himself came down and showed them to me. You know that, right?”

Nagi moved his hands to lean more comfortably against Schuldig’s chest, but didn’t return the embrace. He nodded.

Schuldig smiled unseen into Nagi’s hair. “But even _I_ wouldn’t do that to you.”

Nagi’s thoughts went from being relieved to feeling slightly piqued that Schuldig obviously didn’t seem to find him attractive.

Schuldig caught the thoughts and chuckled. “Kid, I’ve known you since you were nine years old. Brad made me take care of you… You’re a nestling, I’d never fuck you.”

Nagi giggled at Schuldig managing to use the words “nestling” and “fuck” in the same sentence.

“You don’t want me to actually sleep with you, do you?”

Nagi shrugged. “Dunno. You’re… important to me.” He hesitated. “I figured it wouldn’t be all that different from how it is now.”

Schuldig’s amused expression sobered. “Oh, yes, it would be. Believe me.”

Abruptly, Nagi freed himself from Schuldig’s arm and stepped back. His look hardened from one moment to the other. The worry was still there, but so was determination…  
”You said, you don’t know morals.”

Schuldig considered the young man before him. He recognized a challenge, when he saw one… But he wasn’t at all sure, if he wanted to be challenged by the kid in the current context.

Nagi continued: “Would you kill him, if you were ordered to do so?”

Schuldig noted that Nagi said _‘would,’_ not _‘could,’_ and his expression froze. “I thought you knew me better than that.”

Nagi wasn’t impressed. “Would you?”

It would have been so easy to say yes… So easy. “What kind of stupid question is that?” Schuldig said, instead.

Nagi’s poker face cracked, a bit, again. He bit his lip and nodded, slowly. “Thought so,” he said and left the balcony.

Schuldig didn’t move for a long time and did nothing but stare at the spot where Nagi had stood.

“Well, fuck.”

*

The following days had been… strangely anticlimactic. 

Schuldig had waited for five days for the axe to drop. He could practically hear the gears of a lethal booby-trap shift into place. Each tooth of the cogwheel snap into its proper dent, one by one… Click. Click. Click.

He leaned his head back on the headrest of the couch and rubbed his forehead to avoid the impending migraine that was without a doubt to arrive within reasonable time, once he started being _this_ ridiculous, actually _hearing_ imaginary clicks of an imaginary and not to mention figurative cogwheel.

It took him a minute to realise that at least the clicks weren’t imagined and he turned his tired head, searching Crawford, who must have had entered the living room.

Well, it _had_ to be Crawford, since Nagi wore a digital watch and Farfarello was still in his room, pondering about God and life – and unless he would come up with the answer 42, Schuldig was not going to pay any attention to the Irishman’s less than sane thoughts – and Crawford it was.

“Yo, Brad. You got a new watch?”

Crawford blinked, momentarily brought off track of the thought he had meant to voice and looked at his watch. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

Schuldig grimaced. “And you couldn’t have bought one that doesn’t tick the house down?”

Crawford looked at his team telepath as if he had lost his mind – and Schuldig wasn’t even sure if that wasn’t the case – and after a few seconds he huffed, annoyed. With a bored voice he still explained: “It’s a Swiss watch. A Roamer. They’re hard to come by and this was the only one they had in stock.” He turned to head to his office. “I didn’t think you were a walking decibel metre for watches…” He shook his head, once, to take up where his mind had left off with this little mental excursion. “Anyway, we don’t have a job tonight and want all of you to stay, here.”

That got Schuldig’s attention and he lifted his head. He hadn’t planned on leaving, anyway. He’d seen Omi, last night and the young assassin was on a mission, today. It was a good chance to catch up on some sleep… But for Crawford to make an order like that… “Why the hell shouldn’t I go out?” he asked, just to remind Crawford of his tendency to disobey.

Nagi rolled his eyes, but smiled, indulgently.

Crawford turned slightly and looked over his shoulder. “You’ll know soon enough. As of tomorrow, things will turn to normal, again.”

Schuldig didn’t like that tone of voice, at all. He didn’t like the look in Crawford’s eyes. And he definitely didn’t like the self-satisfied, barest hint of a smirk.  
It told him that Crawford didn’t want to tell him something that directly concerned _him_. Not Schwarz. Schuldig.

The German stood and stared coldly at his leader. There really wasn’t any doubt as to what the man was referring to. “Where is he?”

Crawford crossed his arms. “I told you. I don’t know if I want Schwarz to follow your path.”

“What path?” Schuldig yelled. “This has nothing to do with missions!”

Nagi turned deathly pale, as he watched the exchange. Somehow, he had still hoped that it would never come to this…

“You,” Crawford fixed Schuldig with his glare, “will stay here. If you don’t want me to take you out, myself, you will stay.”

“What?” Schuldig winced at the unusually shrill sound of his voice. “And then what happens? He dies?”

Crawford broke the eye contact and turned away. “Just thank me that I didn’t order you to do it.”

“Fuck you!”

And within the blink of an eye, the German was out the front door.

*

Very satisfied, Bombay retrieved the data disc from the computer and while leaving the room, he grimly noted that the dead body lying on the floor didn’t bother him as much as it would have a few months ago.

“Bombay, here. Data secured.”

He waited for a response in his head-piece.

“Abyssinian. Clear.”

“Siberian. Target down.”

“Balinese. Room located. Gimme a minute for target and data.”

Omi nodded. Three down, one more to go. “Balinese. You need assistance?”

“Nope. Clear out, guys.”

Aya answered before Omi could: “Negative. We’ll watch your back. Get going.”

“I’m getting’ there. Hold your horses.” His voice dropped. “Target sighted. Calling in after the hit.”

Omi headed for the west wing exit to make sure each team member got out.

{Omi!}

He froze. {What the hell are you doing here?} He sped up.

{Stop blocking, dammit! Where are you?}

Omi’s pulse roared in his ears. Schuldig had never contacted him during a mission. Never. {I’m on a mission, Mastermind. Keep clear.}

{I fucking know you’re on a mission! And it’s going to go tits up! Now, tell me!}

Omi stopped in his tracks. His lover _‘sounded’_ agitated. Schuldig was never agitated. Schuldig never interrupted a mission. Schuldig could have picked his location out of his head, no problem, block or no… And Schuldig couldn’t tell the future…

Bombay – and it was Bombay, not Omi – made a split decision, opened his mind wide and led Schuldig to him.

“Guys, we may have trouble. Abort.”

Two sets of “copy” followed. One was still missing.

“Balinese. Do you copy?” Bombay snapped.

A gasp followed. “Copy,” Balinese reported, out of breath. “I was on the wire. Couldn’t very well stop in the middle of it, now, could I?”

“Ignore data. Leave!” Omi ordered.

 

“On my way, Bombay.”

Omi neared the exit and could see Ken and Aya outside, heading for the car. He turned to look for Youji, when he heard quick steps approach.

He nodded, relieved, when he saw the man run towards him.

{Omi! Guard!}

A mental image was pushed into Omi’s mind along with the warning; he grabbed a dart and turned to aim, when he heard the shot, before he could actually feel the hot, blinding pain soar through his chest.

He never got to finish the movement and collapsed, just as a second shot rang through the darkness.

 

For a few seconds, Youji stood rooted to the spot, as he watched Schuldig shoot the guard that had hit Omi, and then run to the young man’s side.  
Only when Omi coughed blood, he was shocked into action, once again. “Omi!”

Schuldig wasted no time, lifted Omi up and headed for the door. “Lung’s hit. Move!”

Youji hurried alongside his nemesis and gasped: “You’re the reason he suddenly aborted?” He didn’t actually expect an answer and absently wondered, where Aya and Ken were, as they most definitely had heard the exchange…  
Then a thought hit him. ”He sleeps with the devil and a _guard_ gets him? That just sucks.”

Had either of them looked at Omi’s face, they would have seen a weak one-sided smile at that remark, right before another cough hit him.

Schuldig gripped him tighter. “You think?” Schuldig snorted, cynically. “That’s like Fate tripping over her fucking feet, going _‘Oops. So sorry. My mistake.’_ ”

They heard an engine starting up and Ken headed towards them. “What the hell happened?”

“Guard hit Omi. Nicked a lung,” was Youji’s grim and brief response.

Schuldig refused to stop for explanations. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t think so,” a calm but forceful voice interrupted, and the four assassins found themselves flooded in a second car’s headlights.

Schuldig’s jaw set. Did he say, Fate tripped? She must have landed flat on her stupid face… He turned to look at the silhouette, pointing a gun at him.

Both Youji and Ken went into attacking stance, but their weapons wouldn’t do them any good against a precog with a gun.  
Aya dashed towards them in seconds, but like the others forced into inaction.

“Don’t move.” That was directed at all of them. “Drop him.” That was for Schuldig.

Schuldig stared at Crawford, whose features he could now slowly make out, despite the bright light.

The noise of Crawford slowly cocking his revolver echoed in the night. “Drop him. Now.”

Schuldig looked at Omi, who was still struggling to keep his eyes open.

Omi blinked, obviously in pain, and breathed: “I trust you.” There really was no way out of this, and at least his end would come quickly.

Schuldig hated to repeat himself, even if he only did it in his head. _‘Well, fuck.’_

He lifted his head and without taking his eyes off his erstwhile leader, he said: “Hidaka. Take him.”

Ken hesitated for the briefest of moments, but it only took a mental prompt {Fuck the consequences!} for him to take the shivering body and Weiß was gone within the blink of an eye, screeching tyres marking their departure.

 

Leaving two Schwarz behind.

 

Schuldig, while knowing that waiting for a split-second to react wouldn’t help him one bit, still reacted on instinct and watched every breath of one Brad Crawford.

“Ready to die for him, are you?”

“I’m not dead, yet.” Schuldig narrowed his eyes, defiantly.

When it suddenly got dark, Schuldig thought for a moment that he had been shot and this was what dying was like…

Until he heard Nagi’s voice. “That’s enough, Brad! You’ve made your point.” The young man exited the car and slammed the door shut.

Crawford chuckled. “So protective.”

There was an audible click and Crawford’s shadow stowed away his weapon and stepped forward, right up to Schuldig. “Just remember that it was _your_ decision, Schuldig. Not mine. _Yours_.”

Schuldig didn’t know whether he should pass out from the adrenaline rushing back to where it came from, or out of sheer confusion. He took several, deep breaths and barked: “What. The fuck. Is going on, here?”

Crawford tilted his head, amused. “I signed a contract with Kritiker, this morning. Interestingly enough, they believed that I would be able to keep Nagi and even Farfarello under control… You, however, they were not so sure of.” He huffed. “I just provided them with undeniable proof that you would literally die for Bombay.”

Schuldig just stared and shook his head. “You… You lying, rotten SON OF A BITCH!”

Crawford just smirked.

“You let him be shot, just to prove a point? And Kritiker went along with it?!”

Crawford flipped his hand, disinterested. “Kritiker had no idea, of course. But he’ll be fine. The surgery is a piece of cake. And the demonstration was necessary.”

Schuldig rubbed his face, and then looked at his shaking and wet hand, for nearly a full minute. “I never said…” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I told you, it wasn’t about business. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.” Crawford crossed his arms. “Having two teams like ours in the field, it would at some point have come down to us either working with them, or destroying them.” That infuriating smirk was back. “You decided.”

Schuldig shot an accusing glance at Nagi. “You knew about this?”

Nagi, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, pulled at his sleeves and averted his eyes. “He told me, tonight. Right after you left.”

“Now,” Crawford said, dismissively and turned to the car. “It’s late and Nagi has school, tomorrow.” He looked over his shoulder. “And I believe you have a hospital to get to.”

 

It took Schuldig a long – a very long – time, standing there and staring at the point where Crawford’s car had disappeared, before he was able to at least begin to process what had just happened.

He let himself drop to sit on the ground and rested his head on his hands.

When his imagination provided him with an image of Fate still lying on the ground, peaking at him from under her bangs, snickering at how He Had Been _Had_ … he started laughing.

“Some day, Bradley… I am going to get you for this.”

*

Schuldig exited the elevator and faced three worried Weiß waiting for news from surgery, and he felt a strange flash passing by him.

Less than an hour ago, he thought he had his life more or less figured out… It hadn’t taken much for that impression to change, had it?

He assured the apprehensive men that Yes, Omi was going to be fine, and _Oh, Yes_ , he was going to get Brad’s balls for the whole thing, sometime soon, making Kudou snicker…

 

No, it hadn’t taken much. 

Just one moment…

 

**FIN**

2006-09-21


End file.
